Liked these Brian, but wonder if you can somehow get rid of that
passive construction....
They do feel snappish enough, taken on the wing....
Doug
On 1-Sep-09, at 11:57 PM, Brian Hawkins wrote:
> POWERLINE HILL
>
> Now night is falling the road hisses
> Less and less often, like a snake
> Succumbing to slumber or dying of cold.
>
> Dry leaf cymbals are suddenly clashed
> By some scurrying creature, at random
> In the tight logic of its own huge existence.
>
> Blue and orange must be the colours
> Of whatever people live in the west.
> A frog with a coat on is creaking in a ditch.
>
> Like a hand knocking on a distant door
> Like a phone ringing in an empty house
> A dog barks and barks, receiving no answer.
>
>
> TREE ORCHIDS
>
> Whose heart would not be hung up
> With the orchids when September's
> Propellant breath exhales
> Flames of sunshine? Then on boughs
> Oh, thirty metres removed
> From the dark and rotting, golden sprays
> Unfurl like the tongues of clarions
> Calling to those who pass
> To stop, to stand still, to look up.
>
>
> Brian
>
>
>
>
>
>
> __________________________________________________________________________________
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Douglas Barbour
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http://www.ualberta.ca/~dbarbour/
Latest books:
Continuations (with Sheila E Murphy)
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The poet’s only responsibility is to write fresh lines.
Charles Olson
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