Dale Jensen

As the Drought

 

as the dROUGHt DrIEs the noBODY

THE noTHING

the PLANET on whicH IT rides

the PLANeT carrieS ITS trasitory orBIT

the sun that WILL DIE sometime TOO

as people look to the sky and say

how HOT it is this VERY AFTERnoon

 

 

 

 

The Owl of Accidents

 

emperor of the accident

voices out of the nowhere

where    a while before

there were no voices at all

 

tr yngto ke eph i ms el f

 

and the distribution of planning frogs

and planning if he does that

that exists as the pedestrian steps

in front of a truck    a second before

in a frozen forever

 

toke e pdoi ngt ha t

li lypa crosst hed e sert

 

the limb where the owl sat

watching for mice

the owl of accidents    the owl watching

even over their headlights

 

thep oli cec arf i rst

the nth ep a remed i cs

th enth e am    bula n ce

 

as the emperor’s crown clanks down the street

as if that were the important part

 

those voices you hear now

as you switch into a future

don’t you hear them

as she sits

on a limb

 

 

 

  

The Pass (after Edgar Rice Burroughs)

 

I   BEar wenT INto the villAGE of ivory

    ranSOm Wild unkNOWn count

    loVing cOLUMn of hEavy

    laDEN The entire COUNTry

    DEAD MEN were lighting the torch

 

    he might have considerable stomach

 

    sWAYing branch on A GO

    inSTANt Death to any who shALL kill YOU

    LEAVE the WAY sufficient to OVERcoat

    paniC AT the just PASSed

 

II  be erwe nt int o thev i ll age o fiv or y

    r ans o mwi ld     unk now nco u nt

    lo vingc olu mn    o fhe a vy

    la dent he ent i rec o untr y

    de adm enw er slig hti ng thet o rch

   

    hem i ght    ha veco    nsi dera ble stoma ch

 

    swa yin gbr a nchonag o

    insta ntd e athto a nyw hosh a llki llyo u

    le ave thew ayau ffici entto o verco at

    p a nicatth ej ustpa s sed

 

 

  

Red Bones in the Sunset

 

two-handed inflated antlers

an old penny that once could have been something else

lights shining inside someone’s fortune

 

a memory of sunken cars parked along skid row

their slow brown procession subsequent over the prairies

wastelands     must give thanks

once i saw those mountains from a train window

but the sunset    when orange rinds sing in the sky

the horned beast still playing outside your walls

playing melancholy baby

seems angry because you won’t pull its finger

but when you look back    he’s only an actor

with a recorded trumpet

 

steals my purse    the research continues

as the animal’s own guts continue to talk to him

the red bones some cave dweller painted on the wall

the cave of mouth    voices that cover teeth

the bare ceiling of your house could be a sky

something    for even    spare change to aspire to

outside the ruins leather clad peasants

dance back and forth in rows

the antlers they hold bow to each other

sway    clash    spark sunlight

that waves in joy as it visits other planets

 

Dale Jensen was born in Oakland and has degrees in psychology from UC Berkeley and the University of Toronto. He has seven books and five chapbooks out and in the 1980’s edited the poetry magazine Malthus. He tries to keep ahead of himself