Providing grounds for the greening of human language.





Desert Names by Mark Penny

Friday, August 1st, 2014

I don’t know the names— No very names. Oh, chapparal. Oh, sage. Vague names. Oh, cactus, tumbleweed. Oh, scorpion. Oh, coiled up shaker of a shaman’s bones. Oh, crook-limbed walker on the knuckled sands. Oh, day-lived blossom, thirsting in its death. Oh, winged portent of the flight of breath. Half-names, Bright shadows In a sun […]

Most Days, the Morning Sun’s a Blazing Smudge by Mark Penny

Friday, February 14th, 2014

Most days, the morning sun’s a blazing smudge Athwart the city’s searing opal dome, An egg dropped on an egg, the crack of dawn Sprawling against a shield that will not budge. But sometimes, when I stay up all the night To will my love of nature on the world, No screen of silken, dusty […]

The Sky’s an Ocean, As All Eagles Know by Mark Penny

Monday, January 28th, 2013

The sky’s an ocean, as all eagles know Who plumb the splendour nest to keel, A craze of very ships in fleets that flow On voyages forbidden whale and seal. Its currents race, chained to the planet’s turn, Churned by the jilted passion of the sun, Exacting fervor from the veil-eyed fern Mured in a […]

What the Winter Means by Mark Penny

Friday, January 25th, 2013

You will be asking what the winter means. A crack, A crackle, A lament. The flat, sad surface of the earth Stuck in the ice That traps a pond. The green gone gray and white Alone Or clothed As if the crystals of the sky Had slipped their tassels, Slid the flimsy loom And flapped […]

Ice Walking by Mark Penny

Thursday, January 24th, 2013

A nameless beaver sprang the trap. Must have swum through it on his way up shore. The two dogs, Jax and Cleo, crouched in their winter coats, Gripped and pulled, But the snare held, Jealous of its prey. I found them: Red paw prints in the savaged snow, Scrabbling blindly at the brink. They parted […]

Open on the Plain by Mark Penny

Tuesday, June 19th, 2012

The plain stretched tritely left and right, Flat as the sky it laughed at, Which was gray And rolled like prairie, but less wild. Bands of rain scented the slow wind with their sweat, Stalking through grass as yellow as a sun Ripe on the lowest branch of waning time. They’d be here soon, but […]

Deer Skull on Giant Stump by Mark Penny

Monday, June 18th, 2012

I’m locked and loaded on a night of curtailed sleep Curtailed at starting end The movie was too good to sleep through What was it called? About? That paragraph I wrote for English-with-Foreigner 1-15 Is in my head like the aftershock of a bad-apple head-on with a truck It gongs and dongs with it So […]

Winners of WIZ’s 2012 Spring Poetry Runoff Announced

Monday, June 11th, 2012

Wilderness Interface Zone’s poets came through once again to present a full field of colorful and mind-brightening spring poetry during this year’s Spring Poetry Runoff.  Spring couldn’t find better heralds of its arrival or celebrants of its renewed greening of those parts of the world that are fortunate enough to get True Spring.  The WIZ […]

There’s Nothing Like an Apple by Mark Penny

Wednesday, April 18th, 2012

There’s nothing like an apple Not a thing In summer, fall, millenium or spring The crisp, collapsing clutter in the mouth Wet sugar squirting east, west, north and south _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ To read Mark’s other Spring Poetry Runoff Competition entries, go here and here. *Competition entry*

I Miss That Time of Year I Know as Spring by Mark Penny

Tuesday, April 17th, 2012

I miss that time of year I know as Spring: The rain-chaffed ions on the air, the air Breathed by the shrew and hawk, the wheat and tare, Stirred by the green-leafed lyre and the wing. I miss the swift, infant quaking of the grass In the first stumbling steps of cloud-licked wind, The boastful […]