tom-greggs - Hello Poetry

A young man swings from the arms all wrong if there's hay to mow the hips must rotate first then back and arms together driving off the legs a pendulum of method easy later, years later and harder than imagined if there's hot sun overhead muscles cramping or if the mind keeps coming back to a woman somewhere The best poems drive off the legs as well no effort wasted following a natural arc of back and forth around and through I try to learn the art of the scythe cutting away not grain nor grass nor thistle but edifice, contrivance, camouflage this stuff packed round and held in place with garden hose, bailing wire, military webbing—I am a fiddler crab in my way lurching forward waving one blind blade at the world

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Dec 9, 2016

Dec 9, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC

tom-greggs

Proper Use of the Scythe

A young man swings from the arms all wrong if there's hay to mow the hips must rotate first then back and arms together driving off the legs a pendulum of method easy later, years later and harder than imagined if there's hot sun overhead muscles cramping or if the mind keeps coming back to a woman somewhere The best poems drive off the legs as well no effort wasted following a natural arc of back and forth around and through I try to learn the art of the scythe cutting away not grain nor grass nor thistle but edifice, contrivance, camouflage this stuff packed round and held in place with garden hose, bailing wire, military webbing—I am a fiddler crab in my way lurching forward waving one blind blade at the world

25

Library book on Rin Tin Tin dog-eared bookmark wagging

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Sep 26, 2016

Sep 26, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC

tom-greggs

Short Poem 1

Library book on Rin Tin Tin dog-eared bookmark wagging

5

The big doors roll open at sunrise at sunset they roll closed the man with the hand truck moves his bins and flats his palette loads across the lot Living downhill from a fruit stand I’ve come to accept that joy can appear at your feet Red Delicious, Braeburn Fuji and maybe D’Anjou on a good day Valencia Vidalia or Walla Walla Sweet Reach down pick up Be open hearted don’t expect too much-- the little that comes your way tastes in its scarcity full of life this life your life I pray uphill in the morning and I pray uphill at night to the God of Gravity Satsuma!

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Sep 26, 2016

Sep 26, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC

tom-greggs

Red Delicious

The big doors roll open at sunrise at sunset they roll closed the man with the hand truck moves his bins and flats his palette loads across the lot Living downhill from a fruit stand I’ve come to accept that joy can appear at your feet Red Delicious, Braeburn Fuji and maybe D’Anjou on a good day Valencia Vidalia or Walla Walla Sweet Reach down pick up Be open hearted don’t expect too much-- the little that comes your way tastes in its scarcity full of life this life your life I pray uphill in the morning and I pray uphill at night to the God of Gravity Satsuma!

25

I have a scratch between the shoulders I seek a cedar post sun splintered warm upon which to soothe my spine Sliding down, then sideways across old sintered ribs I leave bits of myself behind Like horse hair caught in the grain or an unfinished poem--words left after my leaving fair for any bird to claim

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Sep 25, 2016

Sep 25, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC

tom-greggs

Fair For Any Bird

I have a scratch between the shoulders I seek a cedar post sun splintered warm upon which to soothe my spine Sliding down, then sideways across old sintered ribs I leave bits of myself behind Like horse hair caught in the grain or an unfinished poem--words left after my leaving fair for any bird to claim

12

My father was a red-tailed hawk flying high above my youth A fine and feral form was he with wings so wide and long enough to suit my myths and distance too to better serve my sullen, silent ways Though I see now among my multiplying years I'd built that sky and placed him there no better cage a son could find and with him dead ten years and more the cage passed on to sons of mine I find in dreams he's come to ground and in the early hours will call a sign to me that he is near and watching now as I watch over my own

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Sep 25, 2016

Sep 25, 2016 at 11:19 PM UTC

tom-greggs

Red Tailed Hawk

My father was a red-tailed hawk flying high above my youth A fine and feral form was he with wings so wide and long enough to suit my myths and distance too to better serve my sullen, silent ways Though I see now among my multiplying years I'd built that sky and placed him there no better cage a son could find and with him dead ten years and more the cage passed on to sons of mine I find in dreams he's come to ground and in the early hours will call a sign to me that he is near and watching now as I watch over my own

17

Descending into the storage box was like seeing a Titanic on the bottom of the sea I drop layer by layer through yellowed envelopes overflowing photos and negatives which darken with age and depth Pressure rises pipes begin to rattle and spray threatening the newspaper clippings report cards, death announcements the fragments of genetic strands now spread about my feet as though they'd fallen from a great height On the bottom sits the old house amazingly uncrushed, porch still unswept of maple leaves and Mary, witness to another world in button shoes astride the steps like a masthead smiling as she maps my bones

0

Sep 25, 2016

Sep 25, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC

tom-greggs

A Titanic

Descending into the storage box was like seeing a Titanic on the bottom of the sea I drop layer by layer through yellowed envelopes overflowing photos and negatives which darken with age and depth Pressure rises pipes begin to rattle and spray threatening the newspaper clippings report cards, death announcements the fragments of genetic strands now spread about my feet as though they'd fallen from a great height On the bottom sits the old house amazingly uncrushed, porch still unswept of maple leaves and Mary, witness to another world in button shoes astride the steps like a masthead smiling as she maps my bones

33