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Another Night in Slemena
Evening bells cleanse the ridge topAcross the canyon a chainsaw pausesBirch trunks still lit fade outThe east ridge already in darknessMy mind enters the pink cloudsThe cuckoo falls silentThe night bird begins its songHow cool the light breezeHow icy the coming starsI close the shed doorCall for the warm dog
Face to Face
A snowflake settlesUpon the porch banisterBecomes a water dropDribbles over the lipAnd falls to the ground Thick mist rolls up the valleyI grip the railingAnd recall Koha’s bravery:
I cast the brush aside From here on I’ll speak to the moon Face to face
My shop is full of toolsJointer, planer, chop-saw and torchesAll of them useless
Gregor Ames holds an MFA from University of Alaska, Anchorage and an MA from Northern Arizona University. Currently, he lives on top of a small mountain in Slovenia with his compassionate wife and three talented dogs.
Evening bells cleanse the ridge topAcross the canyon a chainsaw pausesBirch trunks still lit fade outThe east ridge already in darknessMy mind enters the pink cloudsThe cuckoo falls silentThe night bird begins its songHow cool the light breezeHow icy the coming starsI close the shed doorCall for the warm dog
Face to Face
A snowflake settlesUpon the porch banisterBecomes a water dropDribbles over the lipAnd falls to the ground Thick mist rolls up the valleyI grip the railingAnd recall Koha’s bravery:
I cast the brush aside From here on I’ll speak to the moon Face to face
My shop is full of toolsJointer, planer, chop-saw and torchesAll of them useless
Gregor Ames holds an MFA from University of Alaska, Anchorage and an MA from Northern Arizona University. Currently, he lives on top of a small mountain in Slovenia with his compassionate wife and three talented dogs.
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