Poetry

gift of john wesley powell water in the zuni world polychromatic white and brown these fantastic birds and here grazing below the familiar pronghorns where zuni have a middle world the world below them empty this pot holds all creation all the world the zuni knew its air earth fire and yes that dream of […]

 becoming a riddle in time I have gone to silver a sunny stream chilled in an arctic wind © John Knoepfle 2003

Oh My Father The little child I am remembers harsh cold, bleak February which wore him thin as torn shoe soles in snow, walked to the rim of winters spring polished as bright as March. I shuck off dawn at dusk, divulge indiscreet December, cold without snow or holly, fat disappointments, rained on eager years […]

fall break IWU why did she abandon this cup tea still drying in the bottom white cup with its green collar preoccupied I guess going home for fall vacation and her mother with a lap full of worries her brother using her barbies for spears her father disturbing the sunday with his new riding mower […]

evening with television   on the screen the hero saves a woman from her ex the filthy sociopath the hero has been divorced on his own for twelve years he wonders should he ask her out or not on a date I consider this with two crackers and some chocolate milk © John Knoepfle 2003

SonnetI seek the fields, the woods, and gentle streams, In hopes to pass some calm, refreshing hours; But Ah! how weak are all my idle dreams — Love, love alone my bleeding heart devours. Or if mine eye a glance of pleasure shew On some sweet object — hill or circling plain — Quick comes […]

lines from “all hallows” when there were stone houses or on the walled hovels even the jointstools were warm at the hearth and the cottage doors they were left open the night long that fell dark when the dead came home that was until the famine and who was left living then if only the […]

six-fifty-two AM CST through fog this morning two amblers one bipedal his stalker quad gangly legs: ringed tail:bandit mask juvenile raccoon — such an odd sight chasing a backpacked jogger east down Kimbal through August fog and i thought i was only playing his morning a role as schizophrenic . . . — David Pitchford […]

up early in october how fine this morning that big orange pumpkined harvest moon riding alone the west horizon alone in a pale blue dawning sky especially from this hospital sixth floor window [lots of care here] you can see the craters or as the peoria would have it their old woman putting out brush […]

A Good Sport Once the boy first grabbed a ball, all other thoughts were optional; once the boy first swung a bat, his itch was set and that was that; once the boy shot his first hoop, he had no time for bookish poop; once the boy kicked his first goal, artistic knacks were put […]

king james version there was amazement gold bars for the rich who loaded camels sent them off gleaming through deserts no one had ever heard of at first no one cared so we were surprised that day the butcher was selling lambs heads charged silver shekels when we had no coins it got worse and […]

Birthday Every year a leaf falls, one at a time, hands, days full of raking, scattering and I come to see the bare tree of us against the sunlight strewn in branches, shimmering naked against all those colors you give me tumbling free within a small, a time together walking in woods — David Radavich […]