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FROM MONTANA
POEM EXCERPTS
(from the poem), "When The Cawing of Crows Wakes Me In the Morning It Makes Me Madder Than Hell"
Lord help me! These urban Caws! They are arrogant on my ears. Bag-ladies, screaming subway lunatics, out of sync with pleasurable things, and all natural laws! Black they screech, with no song of bird, vicious voices of nasty parents, backstabbing gossips, gravel-throated, sycophants, groveling to be heard. These dark goblins were banished from our farm with shotgun blasts and target-honed twenty-twos, and scarecrows, before they could do us harm.

Corn-robbers, nasty bastard cunning sneaks, in my down-quilt dreams

(from the poem),

"The Minocqua Bridge"

(from the poem),

"Morning"

At a time when there were no oil slicks, no speed limit buoys, no such thing as a jet ski, nothing even resembling a pontoon boat, and when everyone knew who the best fishermen were, there was a wooden bridge of timber struts and crossbeams set on coal-tarred pilings. The smell of it, the feel of timber grain upon your hand
Greening rain, sweet mountain mist upon my lips,

gentle kisses on my cheek,

whisper daybreak on luminescent shafts of sun

and gently on my ear, its voice,

the song of a canyon creek embraces morning.

from the poem, THE MAN WHO FISHES POEMS
How can a man who

madly stumbles over rocks and beavered alders

risking six feet of wrinkled wader skin

write love poems to rivers?