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Click hereAlways knew God was tetched,
what with armadillos, the moon,
and Günter Rose. He just flung a soul
into that baby. New cry in winter
wailed into Bullwhip, God's Günter
under a Confederate sky,
lashing "shuffalongs" in white fields.
Brothers marched North.
Brothers marched South.
They marched past Günter,
shadow in a cave,
Blue Ridge hidey-holes,
miles from unpicked clouds.
Fields waited for sons,
sons waited for Papa's swinging arm.
Texas took those sons,
and years later:
"Horses rocked us toward that bless-you place.
I bumped along on the bed
in chaw-spattered, church white.
I was hush like raw cotton,
unpicked in the sun.
Suppose other wagons came
just so he could crack them aside."
Old whip curls like a rattler's memory
in my Grandma Rose's lap.
She speaks of digging dirt, a small grave
to return it to ready hands.
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copyright d. dixon
3/16/05
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I'm glad I saw this on FB! I love it, Evie! I read it 3 times- new images each time. Great read! Thanks!
Please grace us with more. For I am greedy and you seem to speak poetry so easily. So many miss you. I wish you well in your new life and hope and pray that you are still writing and flashing away. ;)
~ m
I agree with Angeline on his one. My chest swelled with pleasure as I read. A smile spread on my face in a vain attempt to release the pressure of mounting delight at your superb power of evocation. It's so intensely enjoyable, I don't even want to comment. I think "Fuck! You're good," should suffice.
I'm so glad you kept "shufflelongs" in it. It's such a clear image in one word. Some of the images in this poem (like the "unpicked clouds" for example)are so good they just blow me away. This is one of your best poems. Maybe better even than you know what. (Gasp!)
I'll look at it closely and send you an edit. You can probably lose a few commas. See what you think.
Your poem has been recommended in today's new poems reviews on Literotica's Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum.