Poems by Mark Young

Oasis

The stillness of death
ranges over this vast
plain. I am at a cross-
road in my contiguous
physical map; any
therapy seems only
to have adverse effects.

The shape of the time
interval is less recogniz-
able, imposes limitations
on the raster & vector
datasets already open for
business just across the
street from the condo

development. 95% of
all cats will become
ecstatically attached to
any thing hollow or over-
hanging. Whole kernel
corn right out of the
can is a treat for catfish.

 

Bucolic

Small birds explode into
the air. The larger ones, the

raptors, are higher up,
circle at a much slower

pace, watching this lone
pedestrian who is em-

ployed to walk the back
roads, deciding what pot-

holes need to be filled in
before the sun goes down.

Not what we expected,
or wanted to dance to.

 

Scarborough Fair

I am wearing a necklace of
potted herbs. Carnivores
assail me, along with escapees
from the local military barracks
& rabid followers of various
football codes. I offer them
thyme & basil but they evince
no interest. Only when I show
them lavender do they display
enthusiasm. Apparently good
for keeping mosquitoes away.

 

Kingfisher assimilation

Charles Olson sits on the
fence near the letter-box,
turquoise frockcoat out-
standing in the early sun-
light. His waistcoat seems
washed out in comparison,
almost stained, but it has
a subtlety of color about it

that one gradually becomes
attuned to. He has changed
somewhat since the last time
I set eyes on him, has become
his own avatar. What has not
changed is the will to change.

 

Mondo Rock

We played vinyl; & then
went skating on that portion
of the ocean that had con-
veniently frozen over for
us. I knew all the words.