Archive for April 27, 1992

Puddle of Tadpoles

Posted: April 27, 1992 in Poetry
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tadpoles, grow fast and strong
in the light of the eyes
of the boy who kneels
by your puddle,
shrunken from the heat
of the dry days
after the rains.
standing, the boy can see
the river running, chasing
through the jumbled stones,
just over a ridge of gravel
several yards away;
miles to legless tadpoles
and semi-frogs still retaining
stumpy tails in a pool of
brackish water, bursting with life.
wriggling tadpoles in the sunlit warmth,
waiting for the legs to leave,
for throats to peep tiny songs
on their way to embrace
the river bed.

Rope Swing

Posted: April 27, 1992 in Poetry
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This is the way to build muscle:
Haul the rope from over the water
Up to the rocks and stretch to reach
The knot; tensed and poised
To swing out in the air,
All around you, way beneath you
Becoming the wind over the rocks,
Then over the water;
A hole in your stomach,
Muscles strung on the rope
The weight of your legs pulled up
To your chest,
Not to drag you into the water
The guitar strings of your arms
Hauling on the cord,
Grafted to the fiber
Shrieking cables at the bottom
Of the arc of the swing;
Relief at the end of the pendulum,
Weightlessness and falling
If you can let go.