Jon Wolston's Poetry Archive

All day spent
plugging holes…
a mouse dashes past.

I’ll get a head start, I thought,
racking up the days in New Hampshire
rake some oak leaves
stack some logs,
except it’s bleak
without the leaves yet
and I wonder why I came
until dusk
when the sky puts on lipstick.

I wish I’d stop whistling.
It drives my wife nuts.
I’ve got to do something.
No ifs, ands, or buts.

But birds seem to like it.
They come closer it seems
if I work in the garden
and morning light gleams.

My wife is no grackle
and if she pulls my hair
it’s not nesting material
she seeks, but to scare.

I’ve driven past this church for years.
Another ski buddy bites the dust.
You’d never guess he was Catholic.
His dad’s so deaf it’s pitiful.
I wonder what the coroner came up with.
My son thinks communion is mandatory.
The priest just got his name wrong.
Damn this thing is heavy.
What a spread!
He liked his Maker’s manhattans.
His CPA’s upbeat.
Is that the FBI taking pictures?

Not this church again.

Taking a breather
I see cracks reappearing
in the old brown floor.

A bee-hived surfeuse
perches on top of
her dark chocolate board.

Jolly red pirates
in tri-cornered hats
count their glittering loot.

A pregnant grenouille
with a big green smile
squats on a bittersweet
lily pad.

At the Pompidou:
movies of Nijinsky and
Pollock spilling paint.

Emerging exhausted
into the anteroom, we
spot the young mistress.

You’re different, I said.
What do you mean by that,
my soul answered.
I still love you.
Isn’t that the important thing?

Your love is different, I said.
More precious now than ever.

My soul was silent for awhile.
It lay dreaming in the orchards
of our new life
and loved to dream
as well as I do.

Just let it rest, I thought,
and hold it dear.

Hallelujah! 14 c.
Huzzah! 1573
Hooray! 1686
Wahoo! 1770
Glory be! 1816
Whopee! 1845
Yahoo! 1870
Whee! 1898
Hot dog! 1906
Yippee! 1914
Leap Day! 2012

Smoke from a chimney
on a scribbled roof:
a curly black line
a pre-school proof
of fire within
of a hearth below
in the purple dwelling
we all bestow with love
on our teacher
with such delight!
Later it’s apples
or biotite.