Southeast
Poems composed on the Marine Highway ferry to Haines.
―
Poems composed on the Marine Highway ferry to Haines.
Juneau
Rainforest welcome:
skunk cabbage brightens wet trails,
fog stitches the woods.
Marine Highway
Fjord currents ferry
skiers northbound for Skagway;
I will paddle back.
Symposium
Truck with boats pulls in—
Hera finds me on the pier,
paws parting the rain.
Haines
Hammer museum,
people exist between scars
of avalanches.
XtraTuf
Brown boots everywhere—
locals wear them like logic,
the tall ones only.
The Maul
Bear spray at my hip—
a constant, like a cell phone
with no reception.
Distillery
Whisky tastes of sea;
Alaskans drink like weather—
deep, sudden, stormy.
Mud Season
Ski school is closed.
―
Ski school is closed:
Closing Day
Tourists clear out fast.
Now the mountains hum with mud—
just the way we like.
Cheap Dinner
Snow tires still on.
Main Street maître d calls out:
“Half off for locals!”
Scene Change
Rivers rise and run—
an idea caught in between.
The thaw rushes on.
Spring Break
Poems about most of March.
―
Most of March:
Never-Evers
Magic carpet hums—
never-evers in neon
skitter like pennies.
Texas
Texas Week arrives:
time to ski fast, have some fun—
howdy, altitude.
College Kids
Skiing bikinis—
twenties spill toward the future
like snowmelt downhill.
4:00 To Town
Après hum rises—
music drifting up the slopes
like heat off spring snow.
29 hr (1,957 miles)via I-76 W and I-70 W
Poems composed on the drive from New York to Colorado.
―
Poems composed on the drive from New York to Colorado:
Orders
“Stand up every hour,”
the oncologist instructed.
Long way home ahead.
Borders
State line, then next one—
recovery marked in miles,
not medical charts.
Indie
Exit Indiana—
His mom’s thumbprints cooling slow;
we stay one hour.
Night Roads
We go half-asleep—
mercury lights, semi trucks,
lanes of passing ghosts.
Southern Route
Morning in Kansas;
no ruby slippers this time—
tap heels, keep driving.
Love’s
Love’s gas stations boast
small dog parks behind the pumps.
We stop at them all.