A poem by Thomas Thornburg
the sick cat in the clowder calls,
(the little girl who loved her lost)
wanders in the alley, falls
and stiffens like a frozen coat;
a powder of November palls
on the despair of hunted dusks,
a dumb husk of hares;
that creature in the corner there
sprawling in the drunken chair
ringing silver on the table
has no business being [...]

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From Gene’s Notebook

…in a recently flooded Mississippi River town in eastern Missouri, a barge carrying animal food upriver gets “lifted” in a lock, and a black deckhand, wearing a bright orange life-jacket, works carefully with barge chains, that if they snap, can take off a man’s head ….
I look down from a sightseeing platform and [...]

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