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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3373 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention At the Oak Grove Beau Blue (JJ Webb) cooling begs "eat me please!" * dad's plan He lost his six-pointed hat to blondie, little girl and she won't give it back. She took it to her stuffed animal stack and flipped it onto her humongous lion 'Growlerjack', the one she falls asleep on all the time. * * * scrapbook construction The spring's young plum leaves draw the air slowly through the afternoon. A field of forget-me-nots with a blackberry bush border, brushes the east side of the cabin. And a little girl so seriously four, lecturing the old dog sternly, on why he shouldn't lick the glue. * * * February Journal - Page 23 My father taught me how to build a fire. My mother, how to lift with sacred words. He never let me forget what solid meant. She saw to it my dreams held flights of birds. My son and I today, planted redwood. Told him we owed the forest a small tree. I sang an Irish song with my daughter and chanted, with my wife, love poetry. * * * always with the giggles in the hot tub one person kneels in the tub, the other sits, feet dangling and oh, never mind, tongues get involved, the positioning of jets is so important, sometimes standing happens, occasionally railings break, every now and then a rubber duck appears. * * * summer Saturday night stories Grandpa's gruesome ghosts claw from the dying campfire, spare scared little boys. * * * preparations At her father's bedside Sarah's autumn ear, listening for the northern windchime, catches its first faint stirrings. Turning to her eldest son, this last summer thirty-one, who does not hear the morning, "Split and stack that far madrone close to home ... I feel October's chill." * * * no one wears pocket watches anymore he always had his thumb and index finger in his watch pocket trying to hold time still it was his 'prize' possession and he held it lovingly stroked it constantly chanting to ease its burden of knowing the exact size of tomorrow * * * millennia - the responsibilities of rocks amid the spits of zealots, arguing exactly where to park the sun, and other equally obnoxious screamers certain the world will end with the sputters of out- witted silicon, he holds her waist and calms her children. 'look, the moon's changing shape and venus still carries the night.' |
