Arundo Donax

.
          From
 

          Driving around the lake      on wheel-packed snow like
            sleigh rails        padded white trees    snow knives
          aspen branches      white lined    willows      and logs
                                                            crisscrossing the creeks
          Dreaming of
              walking in it    floating      thickening powder
                                                                                       layers
          From

               watching TV the news from Macedonia
          Dreaming of
                                    sorting out the Balkan peoples
                                                                                           Serbs
                                                                               from Croatians
                                                                                 Albanians
                                                                                              Greeks
                                                                                           Muslims

          Pahn lies on the bed

                            on his back      watching
                                        his shoot grow like bamboo
                                                                       like a rain stick
                                                                                      like a maple

                                                    shrinking only a little
                                                                                   with climax
                                         and growing again to
                                                                        the length of a yardstick
 

                            He calls to Aiks
                                       to come and see
                            She is amazed
                                            in a detached sort of way
 

                                            The pearlescent frosting
                                                                  overflowing the tip
                                                         soon covers it
 

                                                           warm
                                                       and pleasing
 

                                             the balanced scent of
                                       sweet
                                      rich
                                    and bitter.
.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


Some of these poems originally appeared in the following publications

Avocet
Dream International Quarterly
mojo risin'
The Muse Apprentice Guild (The MAG)
Transfer

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