X-mas Fire (1974)

by Rick Young | Dec 30, 2017 | Poem

(snow belles shuffling
in their frozen dive,
jock frost chipping
at your glow)

There was never a time like this.
Elves on the shelves, toys for the boys
And girls, and even the animals,
Nipping in secret at the nutmeg bush.
Visions of sugarplums, the little fat red
Gone wild in the midnight sky,
Jelly jiggling his joyful pot with a wink.
Then, howling at the dime store moon,
He flies.
And everything is "Merry."
And everything is "Christmas."
And everywhere on the somewhere side
Of the world, there is a tear falling,
Waiting for tomorrow to dry.

(as seen in "Montage," spring ’74)

Vacancy

by Rick Young | Dec 30, 2017 | Poem

I thought I was abed.
I felt it in my head.
The pillow hard but round,
a rock upon the ground.
The blanket leaves and weeds,
sufficient to my needs.
The breeze my temp control,
blown slowly through the soul.
My mattress made of dirt.
I think it’s called a yurt.