Still to Read

one hundred pages
still to read
and the snow continues to fall.
coffee was an option,
that dark sweet elixir
that makes my hands shake
and keeps me awake.
instead I sat among vibrating machines
that stirred, tossed, jiggled my clothes
wet and dry.
the book I took with me but
there were those to talk with
and water to drink, now
back in a quiet room
seated in front of glass
the book lays open.
still one hundred pages
to read and the snow
continues to fall.

The Visitor Returns

His hood is raised to hide from the frozen rain.
One step, two steps, he focuses on the yellow
glow behind lace curtains.
Stooping to the ground he digs his hands into the cold
slush, loosely forming what should be a ball.
With a toss of his arm, the ice flies
through the air, landing against the window
where the lace curtains are captured.
He stands back, waiting for her
to spread the curtain with a hand,
then beckon him to the side door
where she will stand in the light, casting shadows
onto the sidewalk, onto him.

An Evening Visitor

A wet rain in January creates slush and puddles that soak left over salt into boots and jeans with each step. The day now coming to an end and the sidewalks lit by lamplight, a boy tall and thin walks up to the dormitory where the girls sleep and study and live. He has his dark hoodie pulled up over his head to keep the rain off his face. He stops outside a window, where he crouches near low bushes; at their base is a pile of melting snow. His bare hands are quick as they scoop a pile of the white ice and mould it into what would be a ball. He stands up and with a toss the heavy ball hits the low window. A low thud makes those around him aware of his presence. He takes a step back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he waits. From inside the room a hand pulls apart the white curtains with the frilled edge that frame the cold glass. He raises his hand in a small wave; the girl responds with the same. The common, “hi”s and “what’s up”s are said through the glass though neither can hear the other too well. Before they can continue on with their silent dialogue, she points to the door that’s just feet away from her window. He nods and takes a few steps closer to the door as her visage disappears. Moments later she opens the door, sock-footed and dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. With the light of the door pouring into the night she leans against the frame, their voices soft as they speak to one another.

Looking Over the Task at Hand

So let's see if I can sum up what I accomplished in my poems. Well to me the stories really didn't make that much sense so I began to look up little words that I was confused about; like Hessian and Farm Labor Transport. Really just trying to get a grasp on what the story might actually mean. Like why a witch would have gold or why migrant workers used tickets instead of money. Well, research helped mostly with the Peggy Clevenger story and how she might or might not be a witch during a witch hunt. Then it was more of cutting out unnecessary words and trying to arrange the lines that remained in a cohesive pattern; into a story that made sense. I really don't think that I accomplished my task to be honest. With the migrant workers, I got a bit of help in figuring out what the main idea was from Professor Zoller. With his suggestions in mind I set to work cutting down the poem and keeping the lines short and to the point. I do think that I did a better job with this one.

In Blueberry Fields

1) We had come
     to a clearing
     where thousands
     of blueberry bushes grew.

     There was the packing house--
     a small building
     with open and screenless
     windows.

     "Farm Labor Transport"
     marked the bus
     out front.

     The driver stood
     beside his bus.
     He was tall and amiable,
     with bare feet.
     He wore green
     trousers and a T-shirt.

     The work day had come
     to an end.
     Swarming an old pump
     were old women,
     middle-aged men and a young girl.

     Inside the packing house,
     berries were rolling.
     up a conveyor belt
     into pint boxes.

     Packing boxes
     was Charlie's sister.
     His daughter-in-law
     was placing cellophane on them.
     And Jim, Charlie's son,
     was supervising.

     Charlie picked up a pint box
     where berries were mounded
     and told me,
     supermarket chains
     knocked off mounds
     of extra berries
     and put them in new boxes,
     getting three or four
     extra pints per twelve-box tray.

     At a window,
     pickers turned in tickets
     of various colors, where
     they were given cash.

     One picker,
     in his sixties, tapped Charlie
     on the arm
     and showed him a thick
     packet of tickets
     held together by a rubber band.

     "I found these,
     they must've fallen
     out of your son's pocket."
     He gave the packet
     to Charlie, who
     thanked him
     and counted the tickets.

     "These are worth
     seventy-five dollars,"
     Charlie said.

2) in a clearing
     where
     blueberries grew

     was a packing house
     with a bus out front

     the driver
     was tall and amiable
     with bare feet

     the work day had come
     to an end

     inside
     berries rolled
     up a conveyor
     into boxes

     a window,
     pickers turning
     in tickets
     for cash

     a picker
     tapped Charlie
     on the arm

     "I found these."

     Charlie thanked him
     and counted the tickets

     they are worth
     seventy-five dollars

The Witch of the Pines

 1) The Pine Barrens
     once had their own,
     particular witch.

     Pineys put salt
     over their doors
     to discourage visits from,
     Peggy Clevenger.

     She could turn into a rabbit,
     there was once a dog seen
     chasing a rabbit, through a window
     the rabbit jumped--
     in the same instant--
     stood Peggy Clevenger.

     Another occasion,
     a man tried to kill
     a lizard by crushing
     it with a rock.

     The rock hit the lizard,
     the lizrd disappeared,
     and on the spot materialized
     Peggy Clevenger,
     who smacked the man
     in the face.

     A Hessian name
     Clevenger is.

     In Pasadena,
     a vanished town,
     five miles east of Mt. Misery,
     Peggy lived.

     It's said
     she has a stocking
     full of gold.

     One morning,
     in the smoking ruins of her cabin,
     her remains were found
     but no trace of gold.

2) The Pine Barrens
     had their witch.

     Pineys put salt
     over doors
     to discourage,
     Peggy Clevenger.

     A dog chased a rabbit,
     through a window
     the rabbit jumped, there--
     in the same instant--
     stood Peggy Clevenger.

     Pasadena, a vanished town,
     Peggy lived.
     A Hessian name
     is Clevenger.

     A man tried to crush
     a lizard with a rock.

     The rock hit the lizard,
     and there materialized
     Peggy Clevenger,
     who smacked the man
     in the face.

     It's said she has
     a stocking of gold.

     One morning,
     in smoking ruins,
     her remains were found
     but no gold.