Wendy Wyoming

2005-05-15T07:42:00.000-07:00

Shoveling Water

Shoveling water is not smart, yet I have done it.

A flooded mind can be emptied with a simple spade

and muscular stupidity: water returns.

2005-04-08T08:37:00.000-07:00

Shot down at The Green River Intergalactic Spaceport

2005-03-07T08:10:00.000-08:00

It's true.

2005-03-03T08:05:00.000-08:00

Chapbooks are available from
Palomino Arts publishing.
Contact: palominoarts@sweetwaterhsa.com

2005-03-03T07:59:00.000-08:00

Looks good: 2.5 more months of winter. Sigh.

2005-03-03T07:48:00.000-08:00

March

Clouds move in
like Portuguese Men of War
on the tide, trailing black rain;
softly, not stinging,
wetting the backs of sheep -
dirty little clouds on the ground.

2005-03-01T11:53:00.000-08:00

Forecast

If it does snow, there will be
little water and trash from uphill
will stick to the fence along with
tumbling weeds from the edge
of town, two blocks away -
and in the morning we'll see
what needs to be done about it.

2005-02-26T07:13:00.000-08:00

We Are in the Way

We are in the way way out here; two hearts
folded like paper shale, like ghostly leaves
in a book closed long ago on a short story -
that told of crossing rivers boiled dry
bt heaven's fire to bed down in Wyoming,
our desire, like our ill-chosen belongings,
left beside the trail in that unfinished land.

2005-02-22T08:00:00.000-08:00

Teakettle Rock. Dumb name.

2005-02-18T08:43:00.000-08:00

Uneasy

Uneasy time / dream beautiful,
but I’m walking uphill,
the truck parked above, beyond a swale;
I am real, who speaks, whose hand
brings water to my lips,
but the sky could be the sea
of my dreams; the yellow outcrops
the walls of an unnamed city,
but I’m walking uphill to the truck.

2005-02-10T20:21:00.000-08:00

Chapbooks: YELLOW WORLD 1 and 2

2005-02-10T08:18:00.000-08:00

From: YELLOW WORLD 2

2005-02-09T14:38:00.000-08:00

Remember

A heart's longing is a mixed drink
concocted from random splashes
of earth.

2005-02-09T07:46:00.000-08:00

Paradise as is...

2005-02-07T07:37:00.000-08:00

The neighborhood.

2005-02-07T07:27:00.000-08:00

There is a potent emptiness in our western province that makes the simple great: Joy in the small.

I love the simple, from the yellow bluffs around my house to things that I find. Rocks, bones, colored china and glass, rusted metal, and miles of twisted wire; the dogs close by.

These are the facts of life.

2005-02-06T07:37:00.000-08:00

Sequin

Idling on a ridge top miles from town

- waiting for heat -

and far to the west, the windshield

of another wandering truck glints

like a sequin pinned to the cold distance.

2005-02-02T08:04:00.000-08:00

Waiting...my garden

2005-02-01T13:47:00.000-08:00

Yarrow

Buildings dropped carelessly onto broken shale
like yarrow sticks cast at the side of the tracks -
another end-of-the-rails town
shaken from the pages of a catalogue.

2005-01-31T23:59:00.000-08:00

Sagebrush Fields
of Paradise

Fiery skies
sideline
the winter worrier -
adversity / forgotten /
in the shimmering
depths
of summer -
Nature's reassurance
that we deserve
to live
in her sagebrush fields
(of Paradise)

2005-01-31T12:14:00.000-08:00

The inimitable Consuela, my muse.

2005-01-30T08:39:00.000-08:00

Chapbooks are available from:
www.palominoarts.com

2005-01-28T17:08:00.000-08:00

Blue Dog Blue Dog Blue Dog

2005-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:00

The Unknown is Real

The abyssal deep is a mass of living things

that pass in the night there; never see a dry thing there.

The unknown is more authentic than what you believe:

imagine then, what you do not know.

2005-01-27T08:48:00.000-08:00

Cold Evening

A cold evening
with the screen door open to the full moon
and telling-of-snow clouds
that push across its white face
and a rip saw wind that breaks our few trees
and the empty sound
of a can rattling down the street.

2005-01-27T08:46:00.000-08:00

The case for intelligent life in Wyoming.

2005-01-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

Traveling stones;

anchored sagebrush;

yellow grass under boiling clouds:

the heart longs for a drink

mixed from splashes of earth.

Poem: Otherwise

2005-01-25T08:28:00.000-08:00

Otherwise

The realm of the gods
is a safe place to be inaccurate:
otherwise - nothing - would work.

2005-01-24T19:37:00.000-08:00

snowplow

Another writer from Wyoming: No cows, cowboys, or cowpies.

2005-01-24T19:08:00.000-08:00

January in southwestern Wyoming:
Mud alternating with ice. Bleak alternating with sunny. River frozen solid. Rock falls and mud slides by day. Don't know what goes on at night.
Dog caught in a *#@(^$ trap. That's it - kill a few more animals. Wyoming? Land of paradoxa.