Another Old Poem

Evil Dreams, 10/20/92

Awaking cold
this morning, I hear
cunning crows bark out my night
secrets from atop
wet black balding

trees. They spied me
last night, wild again.
I haunted the field, stalking
newborn rabbits, mice.
I gnawed timid

bones and still taste
blood. How fresh your pink
face laughs, unaware of my
noctural feasting.
I wish you would

hold me again
in the darkness wholeness
of your pupils, like before
we slept last evening.
I prayed in vain

to be anchored
tight, for once, against
your human warm sleeping pulse.
I fear you will hear
the crows mocking

me, warning you
of my evil dreams.
They claim I'll try to devour
you, too, some desperate,
flesh-hungry night.

Where did the time go?

Reading a friend's blog has inspired me to update my own. Why did I stop posting? After searching through old boxes, I've finally found my poems and other writing from highschool and into my early twenties. I might post some of it in the coming weeks, and perhaps other things that I've been working on recently.

Here is a metered poem that I wrote in 1992 for a college poetry class. I think that we had to use the title phrase (that the class had arbitrarily brainstormed earlier) somewhere in the poem.

"Pining Cow, Herring Smitten"

Pining Cow, a lonesome cat,
eccentric and a little fat,
loved a swinging,
country-singing,
feline fishmonger named Nat.

She would watch him from afar,
selling cod, playing guitar.
He love her too
and wished she knew
she was foremost in his heart.

Ol' Nat thought that he'd propose,
stuffed a message and a rose
in a herring,
flung it, bearing
straight for Pining Cow's pink nose.

Pining Cow, herring smitten,
found the question he had written.
She screamed, "Yes!"
put on a dress,
and in due course had many kittens.