Hm. Nes Poems

We celebrate
the whippoorwill
we saved in the garden
from the cat.
...

My father warned me.
Mother warned me.
My neighbor, Gilbert Jeffrey Swain, often warned me.
(Gilbert is fourteen and knows these things.)
...

Not every man can travel to
A land with fancy elephants
That dance and sing and take him for a ride.
Nor can each man acquire a tan
...

My cat leaves home
Most nights to roam,
Compelled by the moon and stars.
For go he must,
...

No not alone, I dare suggest,
Though all alone you felt; the rest
Forsaking you upon the stage,
Midst blinding light and audience rage.
...

The real McCoy, some say, was Bill, a shipbuilder by trade,
Who joined the ranks of rum runners that prohibition made.
'Real rum-' he boasted, 'not like them who water down their booze.'
So drink to Captain Bill, the real McCoy, and all his crews.
...

Each morning mercy, come what may,
A blustery cold or sunny day-
Each morning mercy finds his way to me.
And though I scarce would turn him out,
...

Breaks the ground
Sweet daffodil,
As thunder shakes
The gentle hill-
...

Shoulda seen that comin'
Shoulda thought that through
Coulda gained a point
Coulda beaten you
...

When God abandons us
to the shifting sands
below
our blistered feet,
...