Short Straw Man Poems

The wind has a grip on the land.
Penny Eyes, the straw man on the field cross
has broken into a crooked smile,
his hands flutter like dying crow wings.
Trees whip the sky.
Blisters appear in the iced-over field furrows.
Under the wide rooted hedgerows
the white fingers of the yet to be seen,
dream of being green....

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The wind has a grip on the land.
Paws scatter four legs.
Penny Eyes, the straw man on the field cross
has broken into a crooked smile,
his hands flutter like dying crow wings.
Trees whip the sky,
leaves are scattered flocks.
If you go out in the woods today,
you will need to swim
through your open mouth,
see through the bottom of a fishbowl,
or push through blindly,
as if your forehead were a horn
to ram a charging horizon....

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