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A Poem by Vol
The
sun opens his mouth and speaks
with
salt words scorched from the sea
and
has not yet said all he knows about
that.
He
speaks ..
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A Poem by Vol
Sometimes at the edge of the
pastureunder
the forest eaves, the soft greens
of
spring slide through my eyesand
paint the curves and shadows of
..
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A Poem by Vol
There
are leaves and
dead
limbs at my feet.
I
can see my feet…
They
are mine aren’t they?
We
have come all this way,
slogged
t..
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A Poem by Vol
I
envy those folks who lived when
Flappers
flapped and Jazz had just
learned
to Jive. They were there for
Art
Deco, whose smooth ele..
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A Poem by Vol
In
the hot spring,
when
the sap rises
to
make blooms open
their
golden thighs
for
the dry juice of
pollen
carried on the
tongues
of..
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A Poem by Vol
AMARILLO
At
six o’clock the road turned bare
as
we rode through Tennessee.
From
Nashville to Memphis is a long,
dark
stretch of ..
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A Poem by Vol
When
we were young and smooth
we
did the things required of us to
cut
our network of brainways, the
paths
our thoughts would forever
follow..
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A Poem by Vol
AT LAST
On
my veranda I watch beads of sweat
slide
down the glass of ale I use to get over
something
I’m not sure of, perhap..
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A Poem by Vol
It
was just another day.
The
heat was as thick as
the
cloud of dust my car
kicked
up on the dirt road
to
my friend’s house,
an
oasis ..
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A Poem by Vol
By the
goldfish pond at the end
of
the walk, a spider builds
a snare
for
thirsty prey in the overhanging
sage
and rosemary, a
dead..
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