The old priest considered the cast-iron oil pot sitting in the corner of the immaculate kitchen. It was heavy, and his back hurt. The trees growing on the canyon walls whispered to him. "Prepare the ... [+]
Mountain Nose: International Voluntary Services/VN, ’68-’69, II-III Corps, as orphanage shop instructor, supply delivery, and recon. Member Poets West Society. He was inspired to write "North Carolina Road Trip" while doing weeks of disaster recovery work with FEMA, from the Outer Banks inland to Elizabeth City. This poem is in Short Circuit #02, Short Édition's quarterly review.
They serve Pit-cooked pork Says the sign Beneath the mossy oaks Of Alligator Swamp, Where vines, Bone-white and python-thick, Twist up the naked trunks Of drowned pines, And boiled peanuts Sell at the stand Outside the Tae-Kwon-Do And Hypnosis store. Black buzzards wheel in flight, Eagle-like but buzzards still, But the Short-Stop café, Without public restrooms, Won't sell quarters to buy the news. At the Temple of Refuge's spotty lot The Bibleway bicycle yard sale thrives, While up Honey Pot Road The Middle-Swamp Baptist Church Hosts "Swampfest 2003" Spread-legged and dangling From a front