Gregg G Brown

Kansas dust and Kansas drab and dull
Left me rusty and kept me a girl-
So little air of loving, and of love less,
No gladness in my heart whirled.
...

I’ve had enough of little men
Who dreamed the opaque moon caroused,
Who drain their whiskey dram, and then
Refuse the dreams such frenzies rouse.
...

There's a dark deep down in ordinary things
Resists our bringing them into view,
Or else in bringing them what light we bring,
As if to ask the question 'Who are you? '
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I have been in existential hail
Since Noah first began to bail;
Hailstorm, shake me till my sadness goes;
Strike me till new blood flows.
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I mend an image worn
By sitting, by fluffing, by naps:
A spatter of nasturtiums
In a delightful but unnatural pattern
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I
Perhaps it is no occasion for a poem,
Being alive, and so much of the world gone over
To death. Being alive ought to be to be, to
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Our house was not a house until we built it—
Cobbled together like lincoln logs,
Pegged, dovetailed by pain,
By tragedy
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As snow and snow will in snowing meet,
What slid down danced into a wild sleet
And randomly clung, each to each,
Resisting ocean's disassembling touch
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If I’d’a closed my eyes and wished,
I wouldn’t switch a whisker of our rig.
Drift a bit, fish a bit. Drift, fish.
A sunset catfish came along as big....
...