green barley

 

is it the slow songs

that makes me feel this way?

green barley in the field

 

 

 

 

graze

 

a mob of black cattle

grazes through the fallow --
autumn wind

 

 

Pierce

 

 

 

 

 

 Pierce County corn fields --
   a little bit raggedy

      the closer you get

 

 

funeral in spring

geese flying home
along the Willow River --
 quite late before we leave




a funeral in Spring --
Country Western on the radio,
melt water in the field




  just across the county line
a green giant greets us
standing on a hill




bare trees, blunt tops,
all wore down in the swollen river --
Le Traverse De Sioux

funeral in Spring

For John, and the farm, the country and his family, that same small town and its neighbors tending the land and their community, its familiar landmarks and services surrounding, that allows one to come home however long they were away.





geese flying home
above the Willow River
as for Our Saviour
a little late before we leave





a funeral in Spring
Country Western from the radio
melt water fills the fields




wait, there's more ...





outside of Sibley County
almost to Le Suer -
a Green Giant greets us
standing on a hill





bare trees, their blunt tops
wore down by the Minnesota River -
Le Traverse De Sioux





" if a guy were smart" he'd say,
looking away
at an object in the distance,
you might look there, too
to see who's there,
or what was comin'
but what he was sayin' ,
was really about you"







his wardrobe was unique
flannel shirts, just red or blue ...
I cant think up a poem
about all those ears of corn






each voice in the choir
on its own, distinct
the congregation, rising
feeling on its feet






it's time to leave
the service is over
all of us together
we lift our keys
and shake them
in the air










John was an outdoors man.
You could always find him there
grading the neighbor's roads
sittin' up on his red tractor
or a tree stand in November
he'd built for some friends
by a corn field above the snow
trolling in his v hull, maybe
little kids with so he'd go slow
and once he took me fishin'
out on the ice, in wind and cold
me, a city boy, we just made a few holes
he left me with a jiggle stick
in a fold up, with Mr Heater
out of the air so I'd be warm
after awhile, a meditation later
'what's that smell' I began to wonder
just like hair and smoke and oil
that Mr Heater it turns out
got too close it burned my jacket
as well the lining and the down
to my embarrassment, something to behold
he come back and had a look
he laughed a little but - i did, too
he made it feel a rite of passage
our gentle laughter
just between he and I






John liked to toast
with a tall brandy seven
if we drank beer
it'd be somethin' old
like Hamm's, Schmidt or Buckhorn
we'd laugh so much it'd just get warm






"well, looks like we better go on in."

three day moon

still a few stalks
by the windbreak in the snow --
three day moon

the dog makes a beeline
for the fox's spoor

in the villager's panic
torches and pitchforks
passed all around

she posts a view of blossoms
one last time


Bandit, Rice


` '';;;;'' yotsumono