SOOTHWINDS
number seven / s p r in g
'78
e d ito r ia l s ta ff:
The s t a f f would l i k e t o e x p re s s i t ^ g ^ K titu d e N ic h o la s K n ig h t,
Jim Pogue]
and A d ria n Daane f o r t h e i r c o n tin u ed su p p ort i i
th e p ro d u ctio n o f t h is m agazin e.
We a ls o w ish t o thank Bob B la y lo c k
f o r t e c h n ic a l a s s is t a n c e , C yn th ia C alla h a n f o r ty p in g and Jim Bogan f o r c o o r d in a tio n
th e m a n u scrip t,
and e d i t o r i a l a d v ic e .
c o v e r d e s ig n by Ray Morgan
Southwinds i s p u b lis h e d by th e G r e a te r R o lla UMR L i t e r a r y S o c ie t y is
and
not an o f f i c i a l p u b lic a t io n o f th e U n iv e r s it y o f M is s o u r i- R o lla .
c o p y r ig h t Southwinds 1978
In Memory, Jack Boyd H e 's d e a d , you t o l d me and d ro p p e d a s to n e i n my p o c k e t . S even t im e s to d a y I l o s t i t and w en t b ack t o t h e same p la c e in th e ro a d and p ic k e d i t up. S c r a tc h e d on th e s t o n e i s a map; I d o n 't know w h ere i t g o e s . And some w ord s I c a n 't q u i t e r e a d . R o b e r t G re e n e
Dream Sonnet Th e la k e i s r i s i n g and w it h i t e v e r y t h i n g u n d e r. I n my dream an u r s in e shape under th e w a v e s . I lo c k e d th e d o o r . I t came o u t o f th e w a t e r . T h e n e ig h b o r s p la y in g c r o q u e t seem ed n o t t o s e e i t . I s h o u ld open th e d o o r and t e l l
them.
No. They a re r i g h t t o i g n o r e i t . my dream and i t ' s my b e a r . S till and b e c a u s e o f ju s t t h a t I s h o u ld open th e d o o r . R o b e r t G reene
It'
He sings in the Kaw in Unsearchable August Kaw fis h e d th e in n u m erab le r i v e r where th e poem o f lo n g in g lo d g e d — b e a s t t h a t in h a b it s c u r r e n t s , b ro w n -r a p id n u z z le r , p o is e d i n one medium, a s s u re d , no am phibian. T h is r i v e r Kaw knew ran t r a n s lu c e n t s e n s e , sands a t i t s banks mark th e d r i f t o f i t s re a s o n . V is io n a n g led a t th e s h i f t i n g b an ks, th e p o e t c a s t s ; n ig h t s he th row s b l o o d b a i t , days b r i g h t H aw aiian w i g g l e r s , b u t alw ays f ila m e n t s , fila m e n t s c a s t i n g . T h e poem r id e s in th e c u rre n ts o f dream , on sandbeds w here sen se flo w s th e same bed o v e r , r i p p l e s o f lo n g in g suspend him in t im e . Unseen in th e baked brown o f A u gu st noon, sen se i s suspended i n dream l i k e sand, l i k e s i l t in th e p u l l o f th e s l i d i n g Kaw. Pungent in m o o n lig h t th e f e a r - d e l v i n g ca rp e x u lt s in th e murk o f th e s l i d i n g b o tto m . H is word banks c l e a r a i r a lo n g th e s tre w n b e a c h e s , he en w reathes th e sand in i n v i s i b l e tu n e s . Wayne Pounds
The Golden Age i. Shah Jahan had no use for the beauty o f a mountain, or the slow flowing grace of a riv e r at dawn loved those flowers slaves made from topaz quartz or p earl in lay , rubies and emeralds as blossoms on curved stems winding up thru white marble, a cold fragrance for any day fashioning a city no l i t t l e task but no argument against his name fo r that geography lavish buildings rose upon "Shahj ahanab ad"/Old Delhi, Red Fort of quarried sandstone's inner sanctum and ruling court: D iw a n -i-'A m , D iw a n -i-K h a s s , P ea cock Throne no s im p le l i s t
learned a lesson from old Tughlug three hundred years before that i f you move the Common Man, not considering his past l i f e . . . (as Tughlug did when he sh ifted h is capital south to Dalatabad, across a desert in which over h alf the population dropped down and were dead. 132 7) . you bring that weight upon y o u rself. The Shah to le ra te d poor Hindus, victimized now nearly fiv e hundred years, took beauties for his Harem and dressed them in s ilk v e ils , pining away over a riv e r, watching pageants unfold with dancing monkeys and Tibetan bears, herds of elephants parading through th is pinnacle of Moslem culture staged fo r th is man, his Fate a part o f each stone.
II.
A gra's Song is the sadness found in sunset's dying glow, f a l l i n g lik e rain on domed roof of Taj Mahal, tomb fo r Mumtaz, Shah Jahan's fa v o rite w ife , bearing thirteen children in a lifetim e of devotion. Evergreens clipped to a man's height, s lig h t ly bowed forward as one must stand in mourning. Pools of water r e fle c t lig h t , r e fle c t flowers in every season lik e the blooming of Love th is man f e l t fo r h is w i f e - ordering the slaves to twenty years o f construction, fiv e m illion man-hours near a riv e r too often dry.
A gra's Song is the sadness of tempered beauty against Time White marble in a blue sky, clouds rid in g a r iv e r wind
in Imprisoned eight years by h is own son waging war, Shah Jahan dies slowly gazing out of a stark c e ll, across the Yurona to his w ife 's tomb, white and virgin pure. Aurangzeb the General wins the throne as his own, proclaims power in vin cible and begins the destruction of Hindu temples and id o ls , reimposes the p o ll-t a x , dismisses them from public service and discriminates in trading Aurangzeb the Bigot suspicious of every man, waged endless campaigns against the smallest re b ellio n , from the Himalayas to Madras, thus spending a lifetim e in m ilitary camps, away from the splendor he k ille d his father to obtain, ... . „ /with Age more Paranoia figh tin g, hating, at arms against everything returned late to Delhi a fte r an absence o f 20 years and died there, depleted as his treasuries had become, his armies exhausted, palaces and mosques in decay Aurangzeb the Warrior against the W ill o f any Man, who deems i t his f i r s t right to c a ll God by any name
John Nelson
The e v il eye is feared Eye of E v i1 roaming widely is feared in the fla tla n d , in crew f lig h t at sunrise & spread hood of rearing cobra in dark chambers o f old temples dark even at noon in the t i l t of lonely sadhu whose eyes were burned out from seeing God in summer sun When the Sun's arc is low and w e ll water s t a le the E vil Eye prospers, lin gers in long shadows dwells upon funeral pyres giving f a r too much smoke. Children in side. Keep women at home & avoid them when blood flow s. Stay eye-sigh t away from any carcass p il e . Go out at night only with companions & ta lk to them. The E vil Eye prospers & darkness it s a lly . Light the o i l lamp before sundown. Be a fra id at proper times John Nelson
The Immortal In a c o m e r o f M oor M a rk e t, p la c e synonomous w ith sw e e t h a s h is h I d i d n 't smoke t h e r e i s t h e o l d man who d id , does, had j u s t done when I saw him w rapped up in r e d f lo w e r s o f th r e e d a z z lin g b a tik s , t o t a l l y u n c a rin g ab ou t th e R ad ian ce he g a v e w h ile s i t t i n g in g o ld s u n lig h t P u re to n e s o f h is s p i r i t f l i t t i n g b ir d lik e in dark e y e s w h ich lo o k e d a t me c a lm ly , a l i e n t h o ' I was & b e n t on s e i z i n g t h a t Moment when th e sounds o f th e m a rk e tp la c e w ere hushed by h i s c o l o r s , and th e v e r y Sun i t s e l f had a c q u ie s e d i n t o h is Form John N elso n
*am
Ray Morgan
Portrait I. t h e o l d man on th e h i l l s e t t l e s b a ck . i n h is mind f i g h t s th e p re s e n c e o f snow. Wants t o sow seeds in ic e . I im a g in e t h e c h a ir c o n t a in in g him r o c k in g i m p a t ie n t ly , th e s to n e f l o o r . s t a in e d f i n g e r s h o ld in g to o s h o r t c ig a r e tte s . h i s re d p o in t e d b ea rd . Randy Barnes
Portrait H. (The Cards) "Ae.volution 4eAue& to AtatUZize."
A.C.
wrapped in cloak of wool diaphanous the Sphinx without a secret a matter o f calculation s Randy Barnes
Portrait III. th e E ye s e e s . the M ind p e r c e i v e s . th e Hand moves in s t r o k e s a c ro s s th e s u r f a c e . you lo o k p e r fe c tly ch a n g ed . Randy Barnes
Portrait IV. I c o u ld know, in l e a v i n g , how i t s ta y s ,a w a y fro m hands t h a t d e s t r o y , how in com ing b a c k , rem ain s in u t t e r d e n s e n e s s , th e im m e n s ity , o f i t s e l f , th e a n c ie n t ro c k p r o v id e s . Randy Barnes
Portrait V. (The Blood) t h a t Time s ta y s becomes d is t a n c e — How i t sp ra n g fro m me, how you came, a life How, th e n ig h t I l e f t , t h a t b la c k ominous s k y , t h a t n i g h t , yo u s t a y e d , d i d n 't know o f r o a d s , o f Sign s in v o k in g W illHow, in Time we push fo r w a r d i n t o moments, i n t o sp h e re s o f l i g h t & dark H ow ,in memory t h e dream s t a y s , th e W i l l , o f it, th e Work
th e w o rk in g
i s h e r e , as y o u , t o n ig h t y o u a re h e r e , as I am b r in g in g you o u t, i n t h is as both o f us a r e h e r e , a re h e re i n my mind t o see, t o s in g o f you a r e h e re t o laugh TO LAUGH & fo r g e t Randy Barnes
An Evening Th e s p i d e r 's tomb i s a n o th e r ed g e o f th e same l i g h t t h a t b a f f l e s my e y e s i n t h e i r u rg e t o s e e th r o u g h . Fragm en ts o f im a g e , p a r t ia l s y lla b le s , f lo a t & w h ir l, m otes in t h e t h r o a t 's h o p in g t o f a l l i n t o some p a t t e r n t h a t s in g s .
s to rm ,
The in k t h r e a d in g th ro u g h t h i s g r e y pen sews w ord s on th e p a g e , hemming th e r a g g e d e d g e s o f my s ile n c e . The s p i d e r 's tomb i s a g r a n ite ea r i n th e e v e n in g s k y . My c h ild r e n c r y , "T h e moon i s o u t, th e moon i s o u t." Eugene W arren
White Winter W in te r w ith o u t Chinook b rea k and fr o z e n r a in s t i l l f a l l s . Dreams l i e b u r ie d in a d r i f t , c o m e r s s t i c k i n g o u t, u n a b le t o m ove, s t i l l f r o s t , f r e e z i n g m is t. W in te r w ith o u t Chinook and I lo s e m y s e lf. L o o k in g i n t o gra yn ess I become b lin d . L ig h t can p e n e t r a t e f o g , can t h r u s t a y e llo w h an d le j u s t so f a r . I t s s t r a i g h t l i n e d i f f u s e s j u s t p a s t my hands. W in te r w ith o u t b e g in n in g and I l i e consumed by fo u r w h it e w a l l s , dry f i r e , w h it e p a n e s , w h it e e y e l e t c u r t a in s , l a c e eyes smooth w h it e . No shadows walk my w a lls day a f t e r day b e f o r e day; n o th in g moves i n s id e . D en ise Low
Suzi
Alexander
Mathematics: First Day 1.
Mathematics is not a coherent entity.
2.
I t 's a vibrating body of strategy emanating from within curious & d iss a tisfie d human minds driven to work by incapability of achieving desired ends.
3.
Babylonians, Egyptians, Arabs, Greeks, Hindus, Jews, Aztecs, Mayas, Incas, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Chinese, Japanese, Germans have le f t evidence of going at i t , after something no body is sa tis fie d has been found yet.
4.
Universe doesn't provide mathematics. Ocean doesn't provide mathematics, nor sky, beasts, flowers, bushes. Crows don't count & consider th eir caws, nor graves cough up useable ways of dealing with death's continual approach upon whatever's bom .
5.
A l l lessons beyond f ir s t branch out in many directions, like trees limbs lungs c a p illa rie s rivers tribu taries themes variations hearts arteries & veins you & those you've touched
& enter in to a world too imprecise for us to even operate in as others come at us zealous with fragments of what emanates from the center in response to what c a lls to i t from every angle. ************************************************************** E r i c C h aet
Response to John Dalton who, in 1880, wxote in A New System of Chemical Philosophy, " we way conclude that the Ultimate paxticles of, a ll homogeneous bodies axe pexfectly alike in weight, figuxe, et cetxa. In othex woxds, evexy paxtiele of watex is lik e evexy othex paxtiele of watex, evexy paxtiele of hydxogen is lik e evexy othex paxtiele of hydxogen, et cetxa." Thanks. B o ld t h in k in g , John D a lto n . T h e s e storm s & r i v e r s , ocean s & s tre a m s , t h e s e t e a r s & p o o ls w it h in me t a k e n o t e , come c l e a r e r among th e t h r o b b in g w aves o f my b r a in . P erh ap s you w ere th e f i r s t t o c o n c e iv e t h a t id e a s o s h a r p l Yes o r n o , I thank you f o r y r n o te b o o k & f l y i n g pen, & c a r e t o c l e a r l y s t a t e y r c u lm in a tin g th o u g h t, y r s e n d in g i t c o n c is e & d e v e lo p e d t o some body e l s e , r i s k i n g d i s i l l u s i o n t o rea ch th r u th e p r e s s e s & p i l e s o f p a p e rs t o be d i s t r i b u t e d , t o o th e r s w it h d e s i r e , c u r i o u s i t y , & d e v e lo p e d a t t e n t i v e n e s s . One q u a r r e l : th o you saw b eyon d th e s p h e re t h a t yo u w e re t r a in e d t o s e e w it h in , & b u i l t a b r i d g e f o r o t h e r s o f us i n t o a s m a ll, more p r e c i s e rea lm than we a re a p t t o e n t e r by ch an ce, as i n t o rooms in w h ich f r i e n d s you h a v e c u l t i v a t e d l i v e — what makes t h a t dim en sion u lt im a t e ? We a re f a r from s a t i s f i e d . You s te p p e d beyond y r c i r c l e , & I q u ic k ly move t h r u th e h o le y 'v e cau sed , g r a t e f u l , in aw e, e x p e c t a n t . I d o n 't a p p r e c ia t e f i n d i n g you c a r e f u l l y d ra w in g a n o th e r c i r c l e m e r e ly o f l a r g e r r a d iu s . T h e r e 's no n eed f o r t h i s in s e c u r e d e l i m i t a t i o n . W e 'v e s c a r c e ly assem b led & come t o o u r s e lv e s , ou r equ ip m en t, our s k i l l s , & a lr e a d y may be c e r t a i n e v e r y t h in g i s n o t g e o m e t r ic . I s e e them, th e s e m odules th e Greeks th o u g h t o f , now i n t e r l o c k i n g in e x a c t p r o p o r t io n . B e a u t i f u l , John: b u t d o n 't I know & w o u ld n 't you know t o o , John D a lto n , i f you w ere l i v i n g & b r e a t h in g & c o n s id e r in g : t h e r e i s s o much t h a t comes t o us odd shaped & s i g n i f i c a n t , h e a v ie r o r g e n t l e r o r m ore p r e c is e them a l l h e r e t o  f o r e , from a l l d i r e c t i o n s . O r, when i t ' s s c a r c e , we s e e k i t : in dream s, in w a lk in g s l e e p , o r w ith g r e a t l y p o is e d d e l i b e r a t i o n , o b s e r v a t io n , a t t e n t i o n t o d e t a i l . E ric
C haet
On reading Caesar Vallejo’s Poemas Humanos The degraded, th e a n c ie n t e lu d e me; the p o v e rty my paren ts s t i l l scrape from t h e i r sk in .
I have ploughed no fu rrow w ith my jawbone, hammered out no hook w ith my s le d g in g f i s t .
K id Thomas
B i l l Katz
St. Francis County Met my o ld man tod a y on W ach ita Creek w here he bought p r o p e r t y . In the f i e l d we s te p o f f b o u n d a rie s , lim its . On th e c r e e k - b lu f f ced ars perch on th e san dston e le d g e , cu rve ou t and up E a r lie r , he jumped a buck and up i t
come
o u ta th e f i e l d and b e fo r e h i g h - t a i l i n g tu rn ed back to
lo o k . Y.T
Jeremy D a h l
The m aid i n
t h e moon
wears a red bandana, q u ie tly s its , a t h er work, h e r look a r iv e r on i t s way t o the sea . V. T.
Signs of Spring in the Ozarks and Phelps Counties, Missouri S p o tte d b y th e n a t iv e s o f M a r ie s , Dent, and P h e lp s C o u n tie s , M is s o u r i l a t e F e b r u a r y - e a r ly March 1978 Now I 'm n o t g o in g t o c la im " S p r in g i s h e r e " ' w h ich w o u ld be j u s t t o o o r n e r y an a s s e r t io n w hat w i t h th e snow a f o o t d eep a g a in and Farm er F in c h o u t a t dawn d is p e n s in g b a le s o f hay t o f e e d t h e cows and t h e r o b in s who g r a z e r i g h t a lo n g s id e th e w in t e r - c r a b b y b e a s t s . C a n 't f o o l me, i t ' s s t i l l w i n t e r ; b u t t o th e v i g i l a n t e y e s i g n a l s o f S p r i n g 's encroachm ent s u r fa c e i n th e b e h a v io r o f t h e E a r t h , h e r a n im a ls , and p e o p le . Ju st l a s t w eek I saw t h r e e morons c a n o e in g down th e G asconade R iv e r d u r in g a snow storm . The omen was n o t t h e snow storm o r th e i c e - f l o e s , b u t th e ad ven tu ro u s h a r b in g e r s in th e b o a t . One o f t h o s e morons was me o u t lo o k in g f o r s ig n s o f S p r in g and h e r e a r e some more: A d a n d y lio n in t h e s c h o o ly a r d . The k i t e . The w o o d p ile d w in d le s t o kn ee l e v e l . Plump re d buds b u r s t th e t i p s o f m aple t r e e s . T h e cow g i v e s m ilk a g a in . K id s w ith o u t c o a t s . The Sun c r e e p s to w a rd s th e N o rth i n the e v e n in g . J u s t s i t t i n g on th e p o rc h s w in g d r in k in g b e e r . The b ig m e lt . "Im p a s s a b le D u rin g H igh W a te r" s ig n s mean b u s in e s s . Mud. D a y lig h t nudges a s id e d a rk n e s s . O ld G eorge comes ou t o f h ib e r n a t io n . One e a g l e . Two b lu e t o w e ls on a l i n e . T h re e sundogs g lo w in g in th e s k y . F ou r b lu e b ir d s . F i v e g e e s e f l y i n g E a s t. The s n o w tir e s a r e g e t t i n g b a ld . W in te r w ears o f f , as p a tc h e s o f brown e a r th r i s e from a w h ite la n d s c a p e . L o o k in g fo r w a r d t o S p r in g . Redwood p a t i o deck s d is p la c e w o o d s to v e s a t P o w e l l 's h a rd  w are s t o r e . Bucks sh ed t h e i r a n t le r s and I w a n t a h a ir c u t . M ore: r o b in s , b i c y c l e r s , r u n n e r s , and e n t h u s ia s t s o f th e te n n is and c a r w a sh in g p e r s u a s io n . F re s h b e a v e r c u t t i n g s and new b i r d n e s ts . E a r ly t u r t l e s o u t from t h e i r mud d o r m it o r ie s , b u t no snakes o r tic k s — y e t . R e a l i z a t i o n o f en d u ra n ce. A f i t o f h ou se c l e a n in g , e s p e c i a l l y th e w in d ow s.
Junk g e t s j e t t i s o n e d , out go th e o ld alm anacs. T i r e chains a re r o t a t e d t o th e tru n k. F i n a l l y g e t th e 1978 lic e n s e p la t e s on. S o ld ie r s d rin k p u rp le m a rtin is in honor o f th e re tu r n o f th e P u rp le M a r tin s , w h eth er th e y show up o r n o t. Southwind. Southw inds. One s k i broken and hoping "No more snow ." Ruts in th e ro a d : "G e e ze , t h e r e 's th e road a g a in . Beware th e p o t h o le s ! " J o n q u ils bloom in Oregon, th e rumor g o e s . T a lk o f E a s te r. The snowman sh rin k s t o a p u d d le, l i k e th e Wicked W itch o f the W est, and le a v e s b eh in d a crumpled h a t and c a r r o t . P ip e s s t a y thawed. The f u l l moon r i s e s pink and p e a c e fu l; th e In d ian s c a l l e d i t "The Moon o f th e M e ltin g Snow." Two i n v i s i b l e meadowlarks s in g t o one an o th er. C a lves w ith lo n g w h ite e y e la s h e s are born and look around. . And a t th e t a i l end o f th e w o rs t b l i z z a r d in t w e n t y - fiv e y e a r s , as many cars in th e d itc h as on the i c y roa d , th e t o l lb o o t h a tte n d a n t on the Kansas tu rn p ik e t e l l s me: " Y o u 'l l be f i s h i n g by the Fourth o f J u ly . " * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * P o s t s c r ip t : On March 20, between 5:20 and 5:40 p.m. th e s e eve n ts o ccu rred : A lig h t e n in g b o lt s p l i t th e g r e y sk y; thunder ro a re d a p ro c la m a tio n and shook the house; a b ig wind sw ept cascades o f ra in in from the w e s t; two d eer c a n te re d a cro ss th e s o ggy p a s tu r e , lin g e r e d a t th e ed ge o f th e dim wood, and d is a p p e a re d . The shower was o v e r in te n m inutes. The g ra s s fre s h e n e d i n t o g re e n and b ird s w h is t le d and sang. S p rin g was r i g h t on c o s m o lo g ic a l tim e as th e astronom ers had measured th e Sun's m ig r a tio n n orth o f th e e q u a to r f o r 5:34 p.m. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * And on th e second f u l l day o f S p rin g a p a rty o f t o u r is t s r e p o r te d an e a r ly s ig n o f summer: A dog s le e p in g in th e m iddle o f a du sty road . Jim Bogan
Vance H e f l i n
Flint and Flux They c a l l i t They c a l l i t They c a l l i t A gam e-board The t a b le o f
M is s o u r i, The O zarks, P h elp s County: f o r t h e i r m ach in a tion s, t h e i r m o rta l bou n ty.
As seen by Tim e, a t la r g e , I t ' s th e skin o f th e Earth Rubbed raw by th e s k y — Abraded, c o rro d e d , c o rra d e d , erod ed : The lan d , l i k e men, was b o m t o d ie . The h i l l s are f a r - s ig h t e d , And men eons t o o c lo s e : They hoe and h u r l th e s to n e s , the c h e r t ; They tramp in th e s t ic k y re d c la y ; They th in k i t ' s dead and t h e i r s , i n e r t . But the c h e rt i s n o t p o s sessed , E xcept by Tim e, who reckons P ro g re s s on th e ra gged abacus Of f l i n t y chunks and n o d u le s , th e w a te rs C ounting o f f by p rim a l c a lc u lu s . Through th e c e a s e le s s a ges: r a in . Bedrock by th e ra s p in g r i v e r s s l a i n ; The land in v a l l i e d v i v i s e c t i o n l a i n ; R e s is t in g man w i l l n o t o b ta in ; The r e s i s t l e s s c h e rt cannot a b s ta in . T h ere i s
no r e s is t a n c e , n o th in g v a in :
The c h e r t, The l i t t e r o f th e sto n y h i l l s , Th e p a t ie n t p op u lace o f g r a v e l b a rs , The produce o f d e s tr u c tio n , Born o f w a te r, re tu rn in g t o th e womb, The g r i t t y clock w ork running smooth. L a rry S tou t
Fountain Bluff £on. CharU&A
Ive*.
fugue.:
Andante. Modejuxto o£ 4 th Symphony
"You and I are part of a mountain range of men, women and youth that extend from North to South. I t i s imposing, i t is a watchtower a point of reference fo r many and almost immortal. Man's soul is embossed in lakes, ridges, precipices. Some who don't understand things too c le a rly have souls lik e small islan ds— something chaotic in th eir in sides. There are others who have a structure of so cial and moral values, they have a mountain range in th eir souls. That's who we belong to ." — Jorge Munoz, arrested in Chile, to Gladys Marin Up and down the small ro lle rc o a ste r h i l l s west of town then the sign says HILL and curving around and downward you sight the b lu ff in the distance. You passed a deer there once, but now you take the state highway south, as you behold millions of tons o f immense green eruption risin g from the valley flo o r . You sense, without words then, the presence of the archetype in the heart o f the country, quartz dream and ozone source. Beyond the Boone family cemetery is the d ir t road entrance into the b lu f f, indicated only by a wagonwheel with a few mailboxes. Along your exploring bent, the road follows some summerhouses, disused barns and the tarpaper ranger's shack by the clearflow spring, into the s t illn e s s of American o rigin s. The horses watch as th is stone s ile n t forest flourishes you into an archaic earth, and the car scrapes the road, rock now, upwards. Swinging rightward to the ridge, below the riv e r drags i t s arc to the fa r horizon through green and yellow symphonies u n til the senses themselves expand and shear away like husks on every side. On th is mass of vernal d rive, kinetic fact: your drone c o lleg ia te l i f e assumes it s rig h t scale, and you know at la s t, th is fissured struggle was there before the schools, so a storm of choral color sings you to your future, over the thunderbird petroglyphs of the western bass. Fred Whitehead
Quindaro Easter N orth o f th e g h e tto th e d i r t ro a d ru ts t o t h e o ld Black ce m e te ry , p a sses a s to n e r u in , s tru n g ou t w ith tr a s h a lo n g a r o t t e n c r e e k . Then you wind upwards t o th e em a n cip a tin g a i r . On a h ig h sw ept w ind h i l l o v e r the M is s o u ri R iv e r , my cou sin s t u d ie s the homemade h eadstones o f th e p o o t w h ile I l i e down in th e young gra ss and f o r g e t f o r a w h ile th e basement where I w e ld a l l day. Back o f me a m ile , n ext t o th e F r e d e r ic k Douglass H o s p it a l stan d s a f o r g o t t e n s t a t u e , n o s e -c h ip p e d : John Brown, t r e e - tr u n k a t h is c a l f , P ro p h e t s c r o l l in hand, gu a rd in g Kansas. The i n s c r i p t i o n : "ERECTED TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN BROWN BY A GRATEFUL PEOPLE.� He su rveys Shenandoah o v e r la n d . Dead th ey a r e h e r e , f r e e at l a s t : th e g a z e l l e ark o f t h e i r th w a rted bones thunders down th e r i v e r v a l l e y , stuns in t o o b l i v i o n th e d is t a n t th ro n e s . Fred W hitehead
The Rope The same ro p e t h a t w o u ld n o t re a c h th e d ro w n in g c h i I d was q u i t e lo n g enou gh f o r t h e n aked hangman
D ou glas W ixson
S it t in g q u ie tly a lo n e 50 m ile s from home d r in k in g c o f f e e in a tr u c k s to p w a it in g surrounded by w e a lth c o n te m p la tin g p o v e r ty o f th e s p i r i t c o m fo rta b ly in the sa n ctu a ry o f th e road highw ays la c e d w ith power lin e s and p o le s m arking my way a lo n g d o tte d w h ite lin e , l i f e lin e h o ld in g me t o my w o rld f i l l e d w ith h o le s I fill w ith m ile s o f b la c k to p p r in t e d w ith hopes t h a t a r e n 't a llo w e d in the p ris o n s we a re c o n d itio n e d t o l i v e w ith hands and h e a r t and mind t i e d t o bars made o f money and p etro leu m l u b r ic a t in g o u td a te d assum ptions home o f the b ra ve lan d o f th e f r e e a l l lo ck ed b eh in d bars s t r o n g e r than s t e e l , b re a k in g hopes o f th o s e caught l i k e m ice in t r a p s , f o o le d was i t w orth i t I wonder as I d ra in my second cup. Stan B eyer
J.
N.
Fleeman
You complain that words are not your forte, that sculpting magic phrases is not a talent you can put to the service of my vanity But 1 shower you with words. You—who ask no balm for your ego other than my touch, my glance, the things which are for you the substance of love— you are pelted with my love in form of words. Blatant proof of my affection. I bombard you with words, I cover you with words, I am never at a loss for words Except when in awestruck wonder I reply-soundless ly to the eloquent language of your mere presence The poetry of your touch, the magic lyric in your eyes The perfect meter of your love. Cynthia Callahan
ADefense of Lovers in Alleys for Thomas McAfee When lovers The ripping than on the that inland
meet in a lle y s le t them be. wind is kinder to them there wide-mouthed h arlo t thoroughfare coaxes hurricanes from sea
and seaward tempts lo st hearts. What cost to me i f lovers l i e on cobblestones and swear th e ir secret oaths beside some c e l l a r - s t a i r pungent with rot and rich in wet debris? Better to bed with s ilv e r f is h and f le a , squinting in murky lig h t and musty a ir than come together on the road somewhere and walk away in freedom but unfree. Always the loves that l e f t me l e f t me hard w h istlin g along the su n lit boulevard. Margaret Menamin
1
Jeremy Dahl
On the Youthful M arriage of a Friend I u sed t o b e l i e v e a man g re w o ld b y h is own e f f o r t s . B u t in t r u t h , we a r e d r y l e a v e s on a r o a d . W h ile t h e im p a t ie n t among us r a c e b y in g r e y b lu r s Tow ard some m y s t e r io u s g o a l . D r a g g in g us th ro u g h t h e y e a r s in t h e i r d i z z y i n g w a k e . And we a r e a llo w e d o n ly a b r e a t h , B e fo r e b e i n g c a u g h t a g a in . E . C la y Buchanan I I I
Technical Love Think negative (-) me SQUAR I f count the days: 3 65 ®8 I can t e l l . (REPEAT) I can t e l l . Only knew: ILY.
ILY. ILY. Think positive (+) the stars I f count the ways:oo I cannot t e l l. (REPEAT) I cannot t e l l. Only know: ILY. ILY. ILY.
Paul Johnson
Opening for Resident Poet Professor p re fe rre d . Although we do not grant degrees in the friv o lo u s arts we are l i b e r a l to the aberrations of our e stablish ed fac u lty . Must sound properly absent and be able to read in a sch olarly and melancholy monotone. Occasional in te rje c tio n s of humor acceptable to awaken lis t e n e r s . Some e c c e n tric itie s h e lp fu l fo r sake of in te rv a r s ity reputation. B e a rd e s s e n t i a l
(if
m a le
and whoever heard o f a resident poet who wasn't?) We pay minimum wage under p rotest. A fte r a l l there are plenty of these loonies looking fo r work. I f in terested in the above positio n please contact UMR Personnel G -l Parker H a ll Open Monday through Friday 8 to 5 with the exception of the noon hour. UMR is an equal opportunity employer. M a r g a r e t Menamin