John Davis
as roughage as rascals
as foxes and ants or buzzards
over ashes as opossums
and leaves in the wind we spin
on the coeval dirt
omens we are, equations of light
scars of our fathers
galling horizons we figments
vertiginous green then brown
we ambulate and blaze
as phantoms from sand
as dancers we color the day
fight fires inside us we lovers
of water of lavender
grasses anything sweet
bashful badgers or salmon
that feast on herring
or babies that nuzzle in
that guzzle and gulp
that burp like babbling brooks
as harried as bunnies
we skitter we scatter
flatter ourselves numb as plums
in the dark then stinging as nettles
holy and handsome we wait for the dawn