The Argotist OnlineTM
Wayne Dickey is a musician, teacher, student, translator, writer, and mostly a
poet. His poems have appeared in journals such as West Wind Review and International
Poetry Review. He is a co-editor of To Topos: Poetry International.
His honors include a 1999 John Anson Kittredge grant for individual artists, an
honorable mention in the 2005 Blue Collar Review Working People's Poetry
contest and more recently, a 2006 Oregon State Poetry Association Poet's Choice
award. He lives in Corvallis, Oregon USA with his wife and two children and
works as a grant writer.
AROUND THE HOUSE
You Hear the Whale Fins?
spruce forest, fostered by loggers,
Pacific in earshot, in the resounding earth
ate their lunches. Did they hear the
easy to say they were idiots,
on their chainsaws,
cold power of machinery
morning frost and forest.
trees, fleeting trees
them breath while they worked.
fumes and fresh air
water jugs brimming over.
was all green and humming,
before lips whispered words,
drinking water and lunch
theirs and his, yours or mine.
trees left, stand and sing
your chamber of light.
let the whale and the logger
the forest say I forgive.
grip of talons steals my breath,
I keep signing my own timesheet.
flapping wings, the touch of air,
change in elevation
like swimming to the top
the Eiffel Tower in one breaststroke.
that doesn't scare me;
just a tourist experience,
carnival ride. Fresh.
I wait for the night bus to carry me
from work through the city so I can gawk
the skyscapers lit up like cacti.
one long held breath, I want
name to be my last word, brother.
© Eric Wayne Dickey