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67Poem: Aging
by barranca
The slightly deaf Ringing ears itch, The gray, slightly Dim eyes blur and water, The feet ache. The hair fades and balds, The joints stiffen. The nose is ripped, The lungs ooze ... published 12 months ago
60Poem: Class storm
by barranca
Class Storm "YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE" teacher to energetic class with no result but further excited conversation. "I have a great book" book is open in his hands as chatter continues. A glowering brow like... published 12 months ago
63Poem: Mountain Day
by barranca
Mountain Day School is out, a special day off for the girls To climb the ridge with fall leaves Counter-intuitively glowing And the crisp breezes sigh like Ghosts retreating to the underworld. We converse... published 7 months ago
60Poem: Pheasants
by barranca
Six cock and two hen pheasants block the gravel road like Robin Hood's highwaymen, they are a proud band unintimidated by the grumbling metal monster which grinds up demanding passage. All in good... published 14 months ago
64Poem: Dignity at the End
by barranca
Dignity at the End After sixteen years you had Had enough Of the aching bones Forced baths, shivering Greasy water and grinding pellets With rotten teeth. The rumors and late night whispers Had started, The... published 14 months ago
54poem: Close Reading
by barranca
Close-Reading In the noisy light of the New Haven Train station with Departures and arrivals flashing and flipping On the board, Amid an echoing, rushing blur Of travelers in the great hall, You sit on... published 14 months ago
56Poem: La Cienaga
by barranca
This is the town where I grew up. The poem is about my childhood. The Ciénaga The ciénaga, my mother's terror, Filled with oil, tar, water and floating islands Of shrubs and debris, Was just down a... published 14 months ago
73Poem: Beaver
by barranca
The Beaver and the Flyfisherman It's a standoff And the Beaver is Pissed off. The Flyfisherman sees a likely deep pool behind the lodge but The Beaver sees an Intruder. The war begins with a sudden loud... published 14 months ago
68Poem: The Forest
by barranca
The Forest The loggers leave a path: mud streaks, hewn branches, stumps, scarred trees, boulders askew- marks left as if a titan has been dragged screaming through the forest. The formerly peaceful walk... published 14 months ago
55Poem: Father Fowler
by barranca
Father Fowler Two poodles follow you everywhere And flank your Santa Fe priest chair As you sit waitng to preach, Ban the Bomb Anchored in steel and concrete, you plant the sign Out front to foil the... published 12 months ago
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