Gedicht
Atsuro Riley
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From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
Them days men boys gone dark groves rose like Vietnam bamboo.
Aftergrowth something awful.
Green have mercy souls here seen camouflage everlasting.
Nary a one of the brung-homes brung home whole.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
Puts me much myself in mind of a rabbit-crouch.
Is it more a meat-safe.
Set there hid bedded there looking all the world like a coffin.
Somebody cares to tend to it like a spring gets tendered clears the leaves!
Whosoever built it set wire window-screen down the sides.
Long about five foot or thereabouts close kin to a dog-crate.
A human would have to hunch.
Closes over heavy this hingey-type lid on it like a casket.
Swearing to Jesus wadn\'t it eye-of-pine laid down for the floor.
Remembering the Garner twins Carl and Charlie come home mute.
Cherry-bombs 4th of July them both belly-scuttling under the house.
Their crave of pent-places ditchpipes.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
Them days men boys gone dark groves rose like Vietnam bamboo.
Aftergrowth something awful.
Green have mercy souls here seen camouflage everlasting.
Nary a one of the brung-homes brung home whole.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
Puts me much myself in mind of a rabbit-crouch.
Is it more a meat-safe.
Set there hid bedded there looking all the world like a coffin.
Somebody cares to tend to it like a spring gets tendered clears the leaves!
Whosoever built it set wire window-screen down the sides.
Long about five foot or thereabouts close kin to a dog-crate.
A human would have to hunch.
Closes over heavy this hingey-type lid on it like a casket.
Swearing to Jesus wadn\'t it eye-of-pine laid down for the floor.
Remembering the Garner twins Carl and Charlie come home mute.
Cherry-bombs 4th of July them both belly-scuttling under the house.
Their crave of pent-places ditchpipes.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
© 2007, Atsuro Riley
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 3, December
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 3, December
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
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Gedichten van Atsuro Riley
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From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
Them days men boys gone dark groves rose like Vietnam bamboo.
Aftergrowth something awful.
Green have mercy souls here seen camouflage everlasting.
Nary a one of the brung-homes brung home whole.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
Puts me much myself in mind of a rabbit-crouch.
Is it more a meat-safe.
Set there hid bedded there looking all the world like a coffin.
Somebody cares to tend to it like a spring gets tendered clears the leaves!
Whosoever built it set wire window-screen down the sides.
Long about five foot or thereabouts close kin to a dog-crate.
A human would have to hunch.
Closes over heavy this hingey-type lid on it like a casket.
Swearing to Jesus wadn\'t it eye-of-pine laid down for the floor.
Remembering the Garner twins Carl and Charlie come home mute.
Cherry-bombs 4th of July them both belly-scuttling under the house.
Their crave of pent-places ditchpipes.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
Them days men boys gone dark groves rose like Vietnam bamboo.
Aftergrowth something awful.
Green have mercy souls here seen camouflage everlasting.
Nary a one of the brung-homes brung home whole.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
Puts me much myself in mind of a rabbit-crouch.
Is it more a meat-safe.
Set there hid bedded there looking all the world like a coffin.
Somebody cares to tend to it like a spring gets tendered clears the leaves!
Whosoever built it set wire window-screen down the sides.
Long about five foot or thereabouts close kin to a dog-crate.
A human would have to hunch.
Closes over heavy this hingey-type lid on it like a casket.
Swearing to Jesus wadn\'t it eye-of-pine laid down for the floor.
Remembering the Garner twins Carl and Charlie come home mute.
Cherry-bombs 4th of July them both belly-scuttling under the house.
Their crave of pent-places ditchpipes.
Mongst tar-pines come upon this box-thing worked from scrapwood.
From back when it was Nam time I tell you what.
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 3, December
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