EXAMPLE POEMS FROM THE BOOK
THE BEST RECIPE
I went searching for a recipe today, for my wife’s birthday.
Haven’t made it in years.
Went with the store-bought versions instead, all that time.
They’re always so bland, don’t you know.
I used to cook it by memory, like Grandma did,
With little variations every time –
A constantly-evolving dish.
Sweet, sometimes tangy, but not dripping with it.
Just the right texture: soft and warm.
Grandma would be sad to learn I’ve neglected the old tradition.
Some things just get put aside, when you’re busy,
until one day you hunger again for the good ole’ dishes.
So I rummaged around in that back drawer
beneath extra wallet portraits from last year, Christmas potholders,
archived wedding invitations and birth announcements.
And there it was, buried beneath my kids’ Valentine’s cards.
The paper was dog-eared, smudged with icing and spice,
but still legible, and smelling of cinnamon.
And the memories of all the good times came rushing back
as they always do with the best recipes.
I held it to my chest, breathed deep, rushed to my woman’s side.
Time to bake up a special dish, Honey, just for us,
and frame that tattered recipe in the kitchen.
WALKING DOWN A ROAD AT MIDNIGHT ON THE EDGE OF IDAHO WILDERNESS
Walking down a road at midnight
on the edge of Idaho wilderness.
Crunch, crunch. Heels dig into dirt and rock
attempting to conquer pavement.
The dirt and rock are winning.
Echoes of my passage silence the night.
Rushing, wild river to my right
goes running past; doesn’t stop to notice.
I don’t see the river, only hear it.
It pulses with the blood of Idaho.
And to my left, brooding mountains.
Evergreen gives way to rocky crags. Snowcapped elders.
I don’t see the mountains, only feel them.
For a moment, the vibration of my feet on the rock
seems instead like the vibration of the rock on my feet.
Ahead is darkness.
I know the way only because I look up and forward
and see the parting of the trees above the road.
Animals about, sensing me,
beetle, osprey, Steller’s jay, mule deer,
I do not see them, only feel their stares on my skin
as they silently watch me pass.
Above me, in the part between spruce and fir,
an onyx sky punctuated by gems of diamond and sapphire.
The galaxy doesn’t notice me at all.
I see it there, with its billion billion eyes.
It does not see me, only feels me
like a human feels a microbe.
Walking, walking, into darkness.
I am not king here. I am alone,
walking down a road at midnight
on the edge of Idaho wilderness.
PACIFIC LOVERS
In the rushing water’s crash
I hear the heart that beats at last
Pounding hard upon the shore
Of your breast where I am cast.
No furtive glances here be seen.
We’ve held that look for years between.
All those pounding waves have come
And smoothed our shoreline neat and clean.
A whale crests far out to sea
Lone and lonesome, though majestic be.
A spout of pride he gives as sign;
His tribute to those as loved as we.
And farther out, at edge of sight,
The sun descends from dizzy heights.
Gulls cry out to salmon skies
But hand in hand we long for night.
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Strange Worlds of Jason Kilgore 