That many guised shaman half-said…
His overburdened lowing of the poem
not snout to endless hog teats
but – broken over us
that brain, that weary cabbage
whose shepherd’s sling
swings this buzzards circle,
improvised weapon held finger to thumb
river chosen, smoothed thought
engraved with “Take That!”
or on his humorous side: “Catch!”
From double hearted
hit like returning swells
off unseen islands
felt under lost boat’s cradled bottom,
killed this one hour old poem dead already
perhaps ‘twer dreamend?
Perhaps LaGrange pouched spun
where, bunting opposite, I Mysterium,
under piano, listen as you play!
Maureen Scanlon grew up in New Jersey, whose influence can be seen and felt in many of her poems. Life has taken her to times in Connecticut, Florida, and Massachusetts; she now calls home the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania. Maureen‘s work has been published in a number of New England journals, and she was a featured reader at the venerable Stone Soup Poetry Readings. She has also hosted Amergin, a poetry reading series.
Her interests, bolstered by travels to Ireland and China, include Celtic and Oriental culture, particularly Chinese art and history, as well as music, and all things of beauty.