Books > Old Books > Poetry Northwest (1959)


Page 32

Joan Swift
Mushrooms in a Museum

Once the emerald forest held
Their urgent growth; the banks of rivers
Nursed their roots a while. Like favors
At a children's party, frilled

And stiff, they poise behind this glass.
Each specimen is perfect. There,
One labeled morel raises queer
Sea urchin heads above a mass

Of muddy stems. Edible,
The sign propounds. Its warty cheek
Like satin soothes the palate's ache.
And ragged lepiota's circle,

Mottled brown on brown, in all
Its ugliness asserts a use:
Agreeable. That tawny maze,
That labyrinth of pipes and small

Lopsided pods, honey agaric,
Consoles the tongue like vintage wine
Although inelegant in dun
Attire beneath some crooked oak.

But as a moth espouses fire,
The eye leans out to those white wings
Molded in flight like waxen things
To slender stems. It fastens there,

Imagining a cedar grove,
Cool, at dusk, with whippoorwills
Spilling melancholy pails
Of song haphazard on the olive

Night. And starting through the gloom
This opalescent glow, this snowy
Nimbus beckons artfully,
So like perfection none could blame

The hand that reaches out for grace
Or beauty. Plucked, preserved, the wan
Alcina props a wary sign:
Death Angel, deadly poisonous.

Under the forest's heavy freight
Of green, what legions plunged their teeth
In succulence to find the pith
Detestable too late, too late?

Page 33

Bernice Oliphant
Yacok

Drowsily, the women sat together,
Some spinning, others making pemmican,
And each was conscious of her own child
Under the nearby trees,
Where little girls slung mimic babies
Over their shoulders,
And ground false corn in a chip of bark,
And little boys stalked game
And shot their arrows into the wind.

Then there was silence, sudden and stark.
The women ran as one to the play place
But not a child was there,
Nor ever was, again.
Now there remains only Yacolt,
"The Haunted Place,"
Yacolt, that lovely sound. Yacolt!

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE Once what is emerald forest held Their urgent growth; what is banks of rivers Nursed their roots a while. Like favors At a children's party, frilled And stiff, they poise behind this glass. Each specimen is perfect. There, One labeled morel raises queer Sea urchin heads above a mass Of muddy stems. Edible, what is sign propounds. Its warty cheek Like satin soothes what is palate's ache. And ragged lepiota's circle, Mottled brown on brown, in all Its ugliness asserts a use: Agreeable. That tawny maze, That labyrinth of pipes and small Lopsided pods, honey agaric, Consoles what is tongue like vintage wine Although inelegant in dun Attire beneath some crooked oak. But as a moth espouses fire, what is eye leans out to those white wings Molded in flight like waxen things To slender stems. It fastens there, Imagining a cedar grove, Cool, at dusk, with whippoorwills Spilling melancholy pails Of song haphazard on what is olive Night. And starting through what is gloom This opalescent glow, this snowy Nimbus beckons artfully, So like perfection none could blame what is hand that reaches out for grace Or beauty. Plucked, preserved, what is wan Alcina props a wary sign: what time is it Angel, deadly poisonous. Under what is forest's heavy freight Of green, what legions plunged their teeth In succulence to find what is pith Detestable too late, too late? where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Poetry Northwest (1959) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 32 where is p where is strong Joan Swift Mushrooms in a Museum where is p align="justify" Once what is emerald forest held Their urgent growth; what is banks of rivers Nursed their roots a while. Like favors At a children's party, frilled And stiff, they poise behind this glass. Each specimen is perfect. There, One labeled morel raises queer Sea urchin heads above a mass Of muddy stems. Edible, what is sign propounds. Its warty cheek Like satin soothes what is palate's ache. And ragged lepiota's circle, Mottled brown on brown, in all Its ugliness asserts a use: Agreeable. That tawny maze, That labyrinth of pipes and small Lopsided pods, honey agaric, Consoles what is tongue like vintage wine Although inelegant in dun Attire beneath some crooked oak. But as a moth espouses fire, what is eye leans out to those white wings Molded in flight like waxen things To slender stems. It fastens there, Imagining a cedar grove, Cool, at dusk, with whippoorwills Spilling melancholy pails Of song haphazard on what is olive Night. And starting through what is gloom This opalescent glow, this snowy Nimbus beckons artfully, So like perfection none could blame what is hand that reaches out for grace Or beauty. Plucked, preserved, what is wan Alcina props a wary sign: what time is it Angel, deadly poisonous. Under what is forest's heavy freight Of green, what legions plunged their teeth In succulence to find what is pith Detestable too late, too late? where is p align="left" Page 33 where is p where is strong Bernice Oliphant Yacok where is p align="justify" Drowsily, what is women sat together, Some spinning, others making pemmican, And each was conscious of her own child Under what is nearby trees, Where little girls slung mimic babies Over their shoulders, And ground false corn in a chip of bark, And little boys stalked game And shot their arrows into what is wind. Then there was silence, sudden and stark. what is women ran as one to what is play place But not a child was there, Nor ever was, again. Now there remains only Yacolt, "The Haunted Place," Yacolt, that lovely sound. Yacolt! where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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