Wilderness Interface Zone

Down to the boneyard went the child to play
Rake-a-long snake-a-long
Laughing all the day
Laughing in the ashes
Leaping on the stones
Hiding in the graveholes, building with the bones
Down to the stickyard came the sun to play
Break-a-long ache-a-long
Shining all the day
Shining on the ashes
Shouting on the stones
Peeking in the graveholes, waking up the bones
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Mark Penny lives in a [...]

Black branches sag
beneath fresh snow as white
as blown cherry blossoms.
Sun-bright ice drips
from stiff tree limbs
like flowing sap.
Bluebottle sky strings out
cloud ribbons as clean
as line-dried sheets.
Brisk breezes scatter
powder like petals
over laughing children.
Winter mimics spring today.
Willingly,
I play along.
(Previously published in the Davis County Clipper on March 25, 2010, and the Utah State Poetry Society 2010 issue of [...]

I watch April for the breath of life;
stirring roots threading secret ways
through soil. The thrill, when I wake and find
dug garden beds dusted in wild Irish green.
Her crop is more diverse, resilient, more
matched to this soil and these waters
than any I will bring. I turn the earth,
interring new life back into its birth
and fold the [...]

Spring simmers beneath the snow
like subterranean hot springs.
Earth shivers, shooting daffodil spikes
through late winter’s crumbling crust.
New life is ready to blow,
shower the valley
with frothy white geysers
of apple blossoms.
For now,
spring simmers beneath the snow,
but in the bones of my feet
I feel the pressure
building.
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For a brief bio and to read more of Merrijane’s poetry on Wiz, go [...]

How long, I wonder, will I wait
for broods to gather round my legs.
And I’ll have feed. Every dry mouth
will fill, for ripening cheeks. I glean
from spare fields, following, with two
shallow baskets. My hands are old.
At ten I fancied to be old
enough to take my own train, wait
by myself on benches. With two
more years to [...]

Sophisticated trees line State Street,
elegantly avoiding one another.
They pose
with thin, black limbs
silhouetted against the sky
and roots sunk deep
beneath concrete.
Up the canyon,
the rabble crowds in close.
Scrub oak brushes up to aspen groves,
listens for whispered rumors.
Expectation spreads with the wind,
rattles bone-­weary stands,
stirs the lofty thoughts
of quorumed pines.
Sap rises, buds swell, branches reach
to embrace dawning spring.
Back in the [...]

Since he was weaned, my son’s been hungry for the open sky—
so that now, at eighteen months, he’s a seeker and a maker of signs.
A simple knock at the air
comes first.
It means: open this door
and let me ascend the concrete steps
to that greater bliss and those long lines of sight.
It means: let there be light!
Or, [...]

It is pleasant
to drive in
spring light
so pure
it is not seen but
heard.
The shadows of
still naked
trees
are like flute
music:
frivolous,
momentary,
passing.
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To read William’s other Spring Runoff entries, go here and here.
*Competition Entry*

New palms of life
Cup the swelling breeze,
Braided together with sunlight,
Clutching at vaulted
Translucence
And time unspooling:
Teach me to hope
Against the broken branch,
The gnawing worm,
The bitter wind;
Show me the comfort
Of moments
Enfolded and
Flowering;
Help me converge
The dark root,
The crystal dew,
The burning light;
Unlimber in me
The loveliness
Of morning, the grace
Of night descending.
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To read another Spring Runoff poem by William Reger, go here.
*competition [...]

Who strew the millet and sunflower seeds,
Attracting these red-vested jots
To the wintry paper of my yard?
Black and square in my overcoat,
I pass them by, an exact counterpoint
To their gratitude who left
The dark wind for this plenty.
Seek, seek, seek, they chirp,
And ye shall find the oil-fat seed,
The berry full and sweet.
Better to pass through sorrow
For a [...]