Walt McDonald Poems
|1.||Opening The Cabin In March||1/20/2003|
|2.||Losing A Boat On The Brazos||1/20/2003|
|4.||Gardens Of Sand And Cactus||1/20/2003|
|5.||Jogging With Oscar||1/20/2003|
|6.||My Father On His Shield||1/20/2003|
|7.||The Waltz We Were Born For||12/1/2014|
Comments about Walt McDonald
The Waltz We Were Born For
I never knew them all, just hummed
and thrummed my fingers with the radio,
driving five hundred miles to Austin.
Her arms held all the songs I needed.
Our boots kept time with fiddles
and the charming sobs of blondes,
the whine of steel guitars
sliding us down in deer-hide chairs
when jukebox music was over.
Sad music's on my mind tonight
in a jet high over Dallas, earphones
on channel five. A lonely singer,
dead, comes back to beg me,
swearing in my ears she's mine,
rhymes set to music that make
her lies seem true. She's gone
and others ...