Saturday, January 3, 2009

Jack

The one-eyed cat astride the window sill
stares in with gaping hole and good green eye
at a crumpled man, prostrate on a couch -
amongst hope-filled dreams and thread-bare pillows.


Dreams of spotted fish and creek-bank willows,
cold, clear mountains and hard, jagged waters –

glory holes – places days and years from here.
Today’s sad, sweet song long lost on downstream.


The current grows and swells his West-bound dream,
surging and plunging and enveloping.
The wounded man astride the narrow board

stares on with gaping hole and good green eye.


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