Clouds cling low,
I tend the fire:
stir red coals—dry
branch of manzanita
alongside oak,
crack of air
to the woodstove—
play solitaire
and wait for words
that hide behind
naked sycamores
along the creek
too deep to cross,
the flood of news
too much
for pleasant poetry.
drycrikjournal 
Great poem.love it!!!
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Love the poem, I understand the feeling.
Love the sunshine we are getting!! It makes me feel like running in the wet grass, instead of mowing it. The dog runs and frolics in it, why can’t I?
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“the flood of news too much for pleasant poetry” . . . pleasant or unpleasant we must continue to search for the right words that unlock the Truth in a time of approaching tyranny . . . Keep digging!
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I don’t really like the ones I’m finding this a.m., too old to revisit the 60s.
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But that kind of a resistance movement is what we’re going to need. I’m wondering if the young poets are up to it . . . Where’s today Dylan?
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Seeking daylight and words and dry ground here too. Thanks for the morning poem. It was so good to see you two in Elko.
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The writing’s been difficult, but busy with Andy’s chap that I’ve become totally engrossed in – a masterpiece on the page. Thanks so much for all you and the WFC staff do for us. I fell far short of hearing/seeing all that I wanted, but left full of good news.
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Peter, that is, of course, the silver lining: this horrendous spawning bed for fresh expression. It will come soon.
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I believe in the checks and balances of the American way, and that a divided people will once again become one. I believe it will all shake out in the end. I just pray that the Vets don’t have to pay the price as in the 60’s
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You and I are old enough to remember how wrong things can go before the checks and balances can take effect.
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