by aaron a. abeyta una cancion desesperada or oncorhyncus mykiss in my trout dream you are twin to the dawn the pearl of your belly that is the sky in the brief breaths the moments of sunless light a wash of pink guazing at the center of you ghosting away …
By Richard R. Cuyler, Salida, Colorado
March and Mountain Bluebirds and nest boxes
with last year’s residue of white and down
and grass. I open one and she commands
the other, the cocked head saying it’s her own.
By Ed Lambert, Salida, CO
Buried in waist-deep snow,
this century-old, mostly abandoned roadway
is a pleasant cross-country ski among healthy pines
to airy 11,375 feet windblown, old Monarch Pass summit.
Meandering north and south from here,
this twisting ridge of cold granite,
a massive, magnificent swelling of earth,
divides the North American continent,
like God parting, for His chosen, the Red Sea,
splits the pristine, frigid plentiful waters born here,
that then flow great distances east or west,
eventually stirring into salt-water bosom of Atlantic or Pacific.
By Laurie James, Salida, Colorado
A woman I saw yesterday had
small crooked hands that clutched
at her coat to keep the cold out.
Her head was wrapped in scarves,
like snakes ready to strike.
The sound of the sun
sweeps the burning bowls of snow
ignites all that is certain
delicate flakes fall, then
white wombs of night swell
like a mystical ocean
in the middle of the plains
the Rockies rise above
I swear
If you took me back
I wouldn’t take even a second for granted
For all we go through in this life
For all the scars you can’t erase
I just can’t understand with a New York Sky above me
By Maria Weber
I have a fondness for fire,
For stew pots with fragrant ingredients,
Comfort food that wraps a blanket
Around my heart in cold weather.
– by Magda Sokolowski
Like a jackrabbit the desert reared up
against the high-cold in green-grey clots.
The cheat of grass, the sheen of ice-ground,
dense & the dull straightaway of road,
the welcome turn – sudden & slow
to find them there.
“It is a fearful thing to love, what Death can touch.”
And so it is.
I know, for I love you
through all our restless days,
waves crashing blue-black, frothy white,
against our spilling sands,
so rich, so sweet, so deep
and fine it is, it was,
to know your skin,
to taste your tongue, your salty lips.
Good morning, Sweetie. How did you sleep?
I slept well, darling. How about you?
Oh, hell, you forgot to set the alarm clock!
Me? I reminded you to set it last night.
Her predecessor had been such a lady
Sleek calico, with the emerald eyes and regal charm
Of the Faerie Queene she was named for
(And a propensity to walk through walls).
It happened suddenly – a switch was flipped –
Enraptured atoms energized the night;
Our darkness yielded to unearthly light
As silver fires danced and rose and dipped.
I held my breath as heaven’s veil was ripped,
You pressed your heart to mine and held me tight;
I longed for rhyme, you longed for rhythm’s flight –
We found our parts within this passion?script.
Overgrown by earth
I trust
the wild roses will re-emerge
overwhelm me with their fragrance
and petal pink color
birds nest, bodies pressed,
father ponderosa
your children are all here
on the pin-wheeled edge
of your shadow
you are the idea of creation
before mountains
watching over this town
from your station
on Methodist Mountain
can i say that you are beautiful?
Overgrown by earth I trust the wild roses will re-emerge overwhelm me with their fragrance and petal pink color birds nest, bodies pressed, tongues mingle, hands holding water rest, then, in June not July, in evening not morning, in lavender sheets not white or green, in cloudshadow not starlight, in my bed not yours, in …
Omnipotent God,
as if stiletto in mighty hand,
slashed with its tip,
earth’s skin
leaving a ragged cleavage nearly to its center.
Slashed this Black Canyon of the Gunnison.
By George Sibley
Barring strange accidents or chance, I’ve partnered with my last dog – mostly because my last dog was such a superior partner.
She was a Border Collie, Zoe; and Zoe was actually the only dog I’ve ever really partnered with, however unworthily. There were a couple other dogs in my life when I was a kid, but they were just family pets – bred for petdom. Border Collies aren’t bred to be pets, they are bred for intelligence and bred for work, and they more or less insist on – I would say, deserve – a partnership. And my partnership with Zoe was not really a “fulfilled” partnership because I didn’t really have any work for her to do that was worthy of her willingness.
by Celeste Labadie
It’s a conspiracy,
someone said,
but I’ve done this myself.
I’m collecting things.
Drowning in stuff.
Clinging to memories while
packing and repacking what
I’ll surely leave behind
when the big whatever
has its way with this corporeal sensibility.
oh i wish i was the captain
out on the arabian sea
get hassled by some locals
uncle sam gonna rescue me
gonna send some big destroyers
and snipers one two three
gonna poach them hapless people’s fish
and get away scot free
Poem by Stewart S. Warrren
Wildlife – February 2006 – Colorado Central Magazine
Time To Decide
You’ve been here before:
the animal runs in front of your vehicle
and no amount of dodging or dancing
changes the certainty of bumper and thud.
I went back for her,
Poem by Stewart S. Warren
Colorado – February 2006 – Colorado Central Magazine
My Kind of Colorado
Kremmling Colorado you’re the crossroads
of thin water and evaporative sky,
the long stride of pterodactyls
just before flight.
Poem by Don Richmond and Teri McCartney
Daily Life – July 2002 – Colorado Central Magazine
Ordinary Things
© 1995 by Don Richmond and Teri McCartney
You wonder and you wander, you search for something fine
Just to come full circle, to what’s been there all the time
In the old wood by the doorway, seen in the setting sun,
a quiet conversation, when the day is done,
In the warm wind through the cottonwoods,
and the promise that it brings
Poem by Jude Jannet
Environment – November 2001 – Colorado Central Magazine
Earth Day Dialogue, 1996
Said I do this for love of my mother.
Ah, but does she really love me,
you ask. Thought maybe
I was speaking of one particular
human, did you, the one we
blame all our troubles on?
Poem by Jude Jannet
Modern Life – November 2001 – Colorado Central Magazine
Backache
Middle aged man
All I want to do is sit on the porch and write poetry
to the birds and to the trees while they make love to me,
instead I must produce something so you
will pay me money to feed my children.
That is why I have a backache
Poem by John Garvin
Homestake Mine Tragedy – January 2001 – Colorado Central Magazine
The Homestake Horror
From lonely Homestake mountain,
Where the snow lies hard and deep–
From lonely Homestake mountain,
Where the rocks rise high and steep–
There came a tale of horror,
A deadening tale of woe:
“Ten men are lying buried–
Poem by Hal Walter
Climate – May 2000 – Colorado Central Magazine
Bluebirds back early
in January
bright blue males flitting from
fencepost to fencepost as
I run along the road
Poem by Steve Voynick
Mining – June 1999 – Colorado Central Magazine
The Things I Learned at the Climax Mine
Some years ago I left my home,
Headed west and bound to roam;
Had fun for a year, but it all went down
When I ran out of money in Leadville town.
Poem by Martha Quillen
Holiday – December 1998 – Colorado Central Magazine
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the towns
Parents had adopted grim holiday frowns
For their half-finished projects did in no way resemble
The various items they were trying to assemble.
Poem by Laurie Wagner Buyer
Personal – December 1998 – Colorado Central Magazine
Until I Run Out of Thread
Like an old coat
I’ve outgrown you
stretched in a different direction
Poem by Martha Quillen
Education – March 1997 – Colorado Central Magazine
I used to read the papers,
I used to watch TV,
But there’s a lot of things now
That I just don’t want to see.
Poem by Lynda La Rocca
Christmas – December 1995 – Colorado Central Magazine
The week after Christmas, the streets are all lined