My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent
and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.
He has several likenesses, like stars and years, like numerals.
My quietness has a number of naked selves,
so many pistols I have borrowed to protect myselves
from creatures who too readily recognize my weapons
and have murder in their heart!
though in winter
they are warm as roses, in the desert
......
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
......
THE cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
......
Have pity, You alone whom I adore
From down this black pit where my heart is sped,
A sombre universe ringed round with lead
Where fear and curses the long night explore.
Six months a cold sun hovers overhead;
The other six is night upon this land.
No beast; no stream; no wood; no leaves expand.
The desert Pole is not a waste so dead.
......
Another armored animal–scale
lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they
form the uninterrupted central
tail row! This near artichoke with head and legs and
grit-equipped gizzard,
the night miniature artist engineer is,
yes, Leonardo da Vinci’s replica–
impressive animal and toiler of whom we seldom hear.
Armor seems extra. But for him,
the closing ear-ridge–
......
Once upon a time
There was a bear called Bear
And a dog called Doug
and a cat called Cat
And a sheep call Hugh
And a dolphin called Delphine
And an Ox call Leon
......
These are poems about animals and nature...
The Arrival of the Sea Lions
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds in the sound.
......
Forever prowling the slick rain stained streets, dazed and bathed by the moonlight and mother nature's embrace, you are graced by the wild wind as you shed your skin to the feral calls of your kin.
Continue reading
browsing green treetops
with a grace that comes from height ~
head up in the clouds
Estoy en el fondo
de un ojo de agua
sin mi luz celular.
Disuelto sin tiempo,
siento que soy el sueño
del animal sin identidad.
HuGóS | 26-12-2020 | 8:21 p.m.