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Submitted by dbaker on 3 December 2007 - 6:47pm.
Style / Type:
freeform
Around doorways I hear a blue wolf howling
Crying for poetry hanging from vigas
Drying with chilies down to a mere essence of thought.
Golden coins adorn dead Cottonwood roots
Breathing steams coffee like in mornings
Ice covers pebbles in dying stream beds.
Crescent moons muddy denote horse herd’s passage
Masa frying in pork fat
Dead Tio calling for an Atumn’s dinner repast.
Under a hunter’s moon I hear the wolf
Scratching around my door posts
Always hungry for more.
-DS Baker
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
(1 vote)
David hi and long time
I really don’t know what to say but I am here so I say you boggle my brain. There just seems to be a lot going on here like a trip where only certain things are brought home or recalled vividly. I wish those timbers would speak thoughts into my mind more than these. Like it must be kind of nice to be a New Mexican.
Truly,
Mark
A point in the infinite circle am I
Thanks Mark
Gracias, mi amigo.
Yeah its a pretty cool place. “The Land of Enchantment.”
-David
Buen verso!
Me gusta el verso! Clarificarme por favor que significa la imagen del lobo en el folklore mexicano.
el Lobo
The Blue Wolf in this poem is my subconscience mind or my angst, telling me to write or that at times I have written my best poem and that all the rest of my poetry that has followed was of a lesser quality.
I think all poets/writers have a blue wolf or wolves that chases them in their writing lives.
Ciao Bella
-DSB