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| Donald Crane |
I have been at one time or another a farmer, newspaper reporter,
advertising copywriter and public relations man. Like many people, I day dreamed through english Lit 101, but enough
rubbed off that I have retained a life-long interest in poetry, jotting down scraps of free verse (often when I should have
been working).
Spirit
A thousand years later
and two thousand miles away,
A clay pot with streaks :
of ocher lightning, unearthed
from Chaco Canyon,
Squats between a South Sea Island
mask and a carved amber bracelet .
from the Baltic
On a shelf
in an upscale curio shop
off 47th Street, Manhattan,
I wonder what the woman whose ;
fingerprints
are faintly visible
in the
clay of the rim
Would think now of the power
of Wood Mouse
her own personal
Kachina?
Card Game
Playing canasta pool side
at the Cedarbush Retirement
Community:
Albert and Emily and
Mrs.
Petersen and Jacob,
Sagging bathing suits and yard
of dead white flesh.
Albert's eyes flick sideways
and then back as the
Activities
Director bounces by
in her two piece;
"Tich" goes Mrs. Petersen, prominently
sucking on a tooth;
Jacob snickers, but ducks behind
his cards
when Emily glares
at him.
- - - - As they get off a final
broadside
or two in the sexual wars.
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