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HoboEye Poems:
B.J. Buckley, Wyoming |
NINE HAIKU
Early morning fog —
grouse pick stones on the highway
verge — one lonely car.
Green tractor silent —
fields of corn stubble and turned
earth, dark crows calling.
Coyote, his wet
nose buried in the carcass
of a roadkilled deer.
Why scarecrow, I, too,
have dressed myself in rags — we
must be relatives!
Young men hefting bales
of hay yellow as butter —
Atlas, Hercules.
Autumn. Three ravens:
three ghost ships sailing. Even
this bright wind, haunted —
Wild geese, eat all my
corn! If I'm hungry this winter,
I'll feast on stars.
Who can say I have
no one? Look! The moon with her
white arms around me ...
TO TOP >
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| B.J. Buckley is a poet and writer who has worked in Arts-in-Schools programs throughout the West for over thirty years. She has been the recipient of a Wyoming Arts Council Literature Fellowship, the Poets & Writers Award in Poetry, the Rita Dove Poetry Prize, and several other awards. Her poems have appeared in many magazines and anthologies, and her book of poems Moon Horses and the Red Bull, with co-author Dawn Senior, is available now. |
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