Thursday, May 28, 2015


bound’ry waters lakes –
wide sky, th’lack of conflict, but
th’bugs sure are hungry

feet ‘n th’lake ‘t two harbors,
even ‘t night, th’fish nip – ‘cross th’way,
fireworks ‘n wisconsin


throwing th’lutefisk –
from th’festival ‘t two harbors,
he looks back ‘cross th’lake

birches’ve come alive –
winnipeg-bound trucker tells
about th’folk festival

from th’cities t’fargo,
takes th’june northern recklessness
and changes his route

bound’ry waters tale –
th’bear considers th’americans
just a bit naive

th’ir’n comes down th’hillside –
th’rusty water ‘f gooseberry,
like drinking a nail

ir’n colored water,
toes in th’cool gooseberry ponds –
th’way they make their o’s

orange cones, road t’saint paul,
th’tiny wildflowers amongst th’weeds –
no time for a nap

foul words, orange cones
bound f’r moose lake, doesn’t want t’miss
th’precious good weather

old boat on white bear -
rhythm of ripples on hull
minutes into days

locks ‘n’ dams‘re th’problem –
winona houseboat lass tells
‘f canoeing th’whole thing

north shore gulls adrift,
lake breezes changing their minds -
and days turn shorter

outside two harbors,
night softens lake and wisconsin,
but for some fireworks

winona houseboat
tales – she tells ‘f th’summer she
canoed th’whole river

old guy ‘t two harbors
plays accordion ‘t th’festival,
loves t’watch’m throw th’lut’fisk

half mile from downtown -
dirt path, green woods, secret beach

folks find secret beach
downtown t’franklin t’twenty first –
tonight, th’loon’s found it


t’ev’ry beach, its crowd,
gay or straight – but secret beach,
f’r whoever finds it

hidden part ‘f calhoun
cool, clear ‘n’ close, not too hard t’find,
best ‘f all th’ten thousand


‘fast corn’ technol’gy –
through albert lea ‘n th’caddy, claims
three crops in, this year

warm rock, ten foot drop
t’frigid lake superior – those
boys’ll live forever

county fair, north coast
th’kid ‘n’ th’dog, both int’rested in
th’dead fish they’re throwing

barefoot ‘n powderhorn,
smoke ‘n music fill th’afternoon,
but th’days get shorter

bush on either side,
buck ev'ry ten, twenty miles -
hit duluth by six

xerxes avenue -
i learned th'alphabet, he says,
on these shady streets

tales ‘f th’laughing waters,
‘n’ th’summer th’hippies took over,
out ‘n minnehaha

grasshopper on rush
trying to make it to shore
before th'bass gets him

chisago lowland
visitors - mallards fly in
for wild rice dinner

superior shore's
cold august rain lets up in
split rock tunnel's glow

dinkytown cafe -
workers don't know what happened
to the baseball scores

ten thousand lakes, but
one loon's cry throttles the night
even at th'town park

needin' thirty bucks,
they'll walk through any open door in

northfield lass’ complaint –
that they’d call th’her’tage fest’val
defeat ‘f jesse james

‘her’tage festival’ –
most ‘f northfield not bothered by
‘defeat ‘f jesse james’

kind of likes th’silos,
rides minnehaha t’downtown,
‘n’ likes when they’re filled up

omelets come and go,
fall breeze catches sports section -
life at the seward

road t’eden prairie
gets th’new students t’play hockey,
lost some teeth himself

oak savannah, they
call it - pin oaks hold out on
minnesota plain

pin oaks against th’wind –
sometimes folks dig in their heels
‘n th’minnesota plains

pin oaks, road t’moorhead
stubborn ‘n’ slow changing th’colors,
‘n’ th’hard plains loneliness

night ‘n th’town ‘f grand marais
th’road t’canada, too, is ready
f’r th’long, silent winter


road t’thief river falls
hoping his luck will change, quick
before th’weather does

out from split rock’s cliffs
with th’whitecaps ‘n’ th’cold wind, he knows
there’s trouble on th’lake

raging lake ‘t splitrock
‘n’ th’fury ‘f november – she knows
what it’s like in th’boat

up through two harbors,
northern lights, icy forest -
days'll be longer soon


shakopee t’saint paul
live on th’interstates, get t’know
all th’kinds of black ice

sleet ‘n th’parking lot –
to her, th’shirts are heavenly
‘t th’mall ‘f america


folk music ‘n th’cities,
‘n’ snow drifts ‘n riverside – he’s found
‘n old two-dollar bill

uptown beemer's trapped,
not by th'two feet 'f fresh snow, but
by th'punctual snowplow

outside minnetonka,
tale'f th'city scrapin' dozer
fell through a soft spot

whole scrapin’ dozer
fell through th’minnetonka ice –
spring, you get what’s left

tales ‘f th’old hastings bridge –
icy days like this, th’spirals
made th’horses nervous

walker in th’blizzard
what s’prises th’guest, not th’ice ‘n’ snow,
but that life goes on

cities’ roads ‘r’ iced ‘n’ glazed
folks don’t mind, all th’rinks ‘n’ lakes,
‘n’ hot cocoa by th’fire

some jerk broke his nose
high school hockey's serious
in eden prairie

eden prairie coach
tries t’get kids t’play fair on th’ice
he, too, ‘s missing teeth

choosing th’eastern branch –
th’gold dome, a silent saint paul,
then, th’frozen river

saint paul streets, glazed ‘n’ clear,
gold dome’s silent – car full ‘f kids
goes back t’dinkytown

lost faith th'winter ir'n
range priest took bingo funds, spent
'm all in holy land

brought her show t’ th’walker,
knows her warhol and th’soup can -
ice on dayton’s curb

hennepin café –
she tells ‘f warhol’s marilyns,
they tell ‘f th’kinds ‘f black ice

ice on th’silos –
jaded as she is, she likes
the mini-apple

march blizzard 'n th'cities,
drunken sioux, angry tirade -
on th'wrong city bus

warrior’s anguished rage –
may blizzard, seward bus fare,
th’fate of th’sioux peoples


angry lake street sioux –
may blizzard, ‘n’ lost patience with
“minnesota nice”

duluth harbor quest –
he’ll know all the lake’s secrets
soon as th’ice breaks up

west 'v th'cities, the plains
open out, green 'n' wide - clara
city, you're a speck

down from winnipeg -
hit th'cities 'round two, but 'n june,
everyone's still up

sun ‘n’ th’old star tribunes
th’hippie farmer’s on th’porch, with
th’huge stalk ‘f brussel sprouts

coast t’coast, ‘n’ comes t’saint paul
neat lawns ‘n th’city he used t’know,
‘n now, th’lit up cap’tol

twinkiedome drama
yankee fans, a bit crude, but
june belongs to twins

called th’false indigo,
says th’saint paul lass – th’purple flow’r
escaped into th’wild

iron range trainyard –
prairie larkspur, you’ve come far,
forgive their language

dinkytown lattes -
punks agree, june's too short to
suffer through classes


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