Dennis Lange Poems

How could she love me like the wind -
So touch my face, and make it bend
To her, and then soon disappear
On backs of white-tailed leaping deer?
...

I am a plain and simple man.
I'll tell you simply, if I can,
And tell you plainly so you'll know
How the plain and simple go.
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When trouble tills our garden with a woe,
And rakes to rubbled ruin this earthly life,
It gives us no escape, no place to go,
And never asks permission for the strife.
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I picked a penny up today;
It lay there on the ground
As if it were a fallen moon,
As bright and just as round.
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When my gallbladder had the gall
To kick up trouble after all
The time we'd spent in harmony,
Like precise parts of symphony,
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The circle widens as a man grows wise.
He comes to know what lies beyond the veil.
The world is wider than the ears and eyes.
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He walked, a stick, both lean and tall
The streets, both night and day,
Disturbed by demons, not by tasks,
That wouldn't go away.
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The rain falls on the hill above,
And some runs through my yard,
Across my driveway, and then down
The sloped road, rushing hard.
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I could not paint a butterfly
If pinned and still as stone.
But I see in that palette's tints
A talent near unknown.
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In Texas in the sixties, there were many counties dry.
Morality was voted in; morality was high,
And alcohol was still a scourge kin to bubonic plague.
So folks dammed up their counties like the Dutch dammed up the Hague.
...