David McLean Mathews Poems

god dead dog
aims lips of ooze
fruit of strength
tongue of passion,
...

Good evening
I write for a living
Or describe and think
With a visionary zeal
...

Dylan Thomas rode up the highway in Milton
His warbling jowls ruddy with drink
At 99 he’s seen the howling
World with egrets and sea eagles
...

In two foot of water
Foaming like baking soda
8 footer in front
You’re far enough back
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The winds groan through virgin pine valleys
as we sit and puzzle over the death
and birth of two nations so remote
they might as well be brothers.
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Gambolling gaze across Mount Ainslie
where the azure spray of impeachment blue
meets the harassing nature of gumfull land,
as the heat eases its way into eye sockets
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Riverlets of summer rain
cascade down the outurned
window as lightening strikes
pale Ludwigian tragedy;
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i sit on my roof watch the alien birds fly wine and treats to a nest in the Japanese maple ~ i understand the valley breeze puffing up my nose ~ its hook reserved for flicking raindrops when the blackcloud dumps ~
...

In autumn, I tend to
my words and write of
the plane crossing the sun.
...

The Catalina Flying Boats
Swing low
Catching the sou‘easter
On a right bank
...