Archive for the ‘W. D. Snodgrass’ Category

Bear Wallow On Mt. Lemmon   Leave a comment

Bear Wallow On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne

In spray-paint, psychedelic, gaudy,
Fall scrawls its name – a blunt and bawdy
Challenge to the complacent wood.
We say: there goes the neighborhood;
It is not and it cannot come to good.
Soon, flustered leaves will sag like torn
Wallpaper; solid dark walls, worn
Through here and there, exposed a bitter
Sky while, on the bare ground, litter
And stub ends pile up everywhere.
Not even one green plant would dare
Poke its nose out in the crude air
Of catch-as-catch-can thievery, lust,
Cut-throat protection and sick trust.
Where year by year we walked together
Determined paths, a wilder atmosphere
Wheels in, flaunting its chains, blades and black leather.

— from Autumn Variations by W. D. Snodgrass

Spring Wildflowers — Envisioning the Life Cycles of Flowers and People as Parallel   Leave a comment

Spring Wildflowers — Image by kenne

A STROLLING MINSTREL’S BALLARD
OF THE SKULLS AND FLOWERS

Dahlia, Amaryllis, Iris,
      Flaunt their fragrance and their flair
As roman candles arc, desirous
      To burst new treasures on the air,
Spill out their color and their scent
      And whistle down the rambling bee.
When dazzle and pizzazz are spent
      And every garden’s luxury
Of blossom’s gone to shreds or hock,
      Where is that glamourie and that mask;
When January whips the stalk
      What memory stills the rattled husk?

By lurch and stumble, change and growth
      Struggling from all fours, we fise
Cranking the backbone up, though loath.
      To lift our skull into the skies
Where the lit eye blinks out its longing,
      Gathers the world, then from that height
Sends hosts of bright ideas thronging
      Like fireflies sparking up the night.
What are the perfume and that pollen
      Or all the brain’s fine fireworks worth
Once socket, stalk and spine have fallen
      As acrid, black ash drifts to earth?

— W.D. Snodgrass

Saguaros At Sunrise   Leave a comment

MMM 02-04-13Saguaros At Sunrise — Image by kenne

The Capture of Mr. Sun

The sun is a lion
     circling his cage,
Caught for you, brought for you
     on this wheeled stage,
Through fixed bars glaring
     his wrath and his rage
Like a pen for the baby
     or bedrails in old age.

The lion is a sunflower
     with a broad gold face,
Its petals outstreaming
     like a mane or the rays
Of that candescent Power
    we all watch pace
Through the gendering heavens
    on its circuit of days.

The flower is tracing
     the sun on its rounds;
The carnival moves through
     its orbit of towns;
The lion's cage rolls
     your streets up and down
Where be pads and we shiver
     at his smile, his frown.

-- W. D. Snodgrass

 

 

Cooper’s Hawk On Black Tree   2 comments

Cooper's Hawk (1 of 1) grunge blogCooper’s Hawk On Black Tree– Grunge Composition by kenne

All night black tree
shapes wrestled their dark
angels or assailants; the deep woods
wracked by shattering, cracking;
then rain drove straight 
sheets like a wave’s crash
wrenching leaves and birds’ nests
from the branch, battering
grain flat in the fields;
mice, rabbits in their burrows
drowned.
At first dawn, soft
mists down the valley rise till
light strikes, enamelling
each emerald green leaf
splattered clean.

— from “Summer Sequence” by W. D. Snodgrass

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