Here’s another poem from my book Scattered Showers in a Clear Sky ( Plain View Press 2007):
“Early in my writing career I came to believe that the stories I wrote were already written in the unconscious by a hand other than my own.” – James Lee Burke
Geometry was my worst subject,
but I love it slicing its way through the cornfield.
Flowers, Mandalas, Pentagrams,
twelve years now, each summer
Who speaks here?
What message whistles
in the high corn?
In the wheat , what coded words
have I been ignoring?
The cure is part of the art,
the unfolding of the origami of pain.
At the approach of the reaper,
sheaves bow down like Joseph’s dream,