Maybe, but that’s a generous word when speaking of this stuff. Ah, what the hell. Here it is.
Bull River Poem
The freight train’s labored passing cross the valley left a hole
that the moon fell in, with the plink
of a fish having a late-night snack.
I waited for you, Gray Whale
by the dunes and the Umqua River.
I pleaded audience in my Atlantic way while all round me
people spoke in Japanese and Californian,
people used to your Pacific presence.
And then again at Klamath
I climbed to look out far and wide
for a tell-tale breath that would signal your approval
but it was not to be.