(no subject)

[nverland]

Mexico
by Robert Hass

I have just crossed the Rio Grande,
And by a string of clever switchbacks
Have, for the moment, outwitted the posse.

Ahead lie the ghosts of Sierra Madre.
Behind, I have nothing but sun,
While the condor's shadow circles over my bones.

Though the mountains are steep, my horse doesn't falter,
And now I know why starving bandoleros
Will never shoot their animals for food.

Beyond my mirage, I see the white adobe—
Yes, the one with the red-tiled roof—
Which one afternoon I will lean against, with my hat down
And knees up, after a bottle of tequila.

In that siesta, I am sure to dream
Of the lovely senorita
Who has stolen away from her father
To meet me in the orchard.

But enough of that. There is work to be done.
I have cattle to rustle and horses to steal
Before the posse picks up my trail.

(In a poem of Mexico, it would be unwise
For a poet to mention the posse is his wife.)

So, mi amigo, if you find her
Prowling my mountains
With a wooden spoon in her hand,
Tell her I am not here.

Tell her I have run off
With Cormac McCarthy and Louis L'Amour,
That I ride like the wind
To join up with the great Pancho Villa.

(no subject)

[nverland]

The War
By Scott Wannberg

The War had its grandchildren over for the afternoon
they looked at the scrapbook
smiled, told one another jokes, ate well...
The War told everyone it was going to wear brand new clothes
but if you look close enough
the labels are angrily familiar...
The War knows where to buy food cheap
but good stuff nonetheless...
The War had a drinking problem
but it got smart, joined AA
nothing but coffee now...
The War came over to my apartment this afternoon
to borrow a video
I don't know as I should loan the War any of my things
It usually loses them, forgets to return anything...
The War got on its knees and prayed for more victims
before turning in.
Dear God, the War said, please let me go on and on and on
I am enjoying myself.
The War is getting younger all the time.
Nobody should look that young.
Nobody.