Failure to Learn a Simple Thing
J. Quinn Brisben
Birds fly.
(noun-verb)
That block filled up with home folk
Twanging under gray skies,
Talking about going back
To where there was nothing
To go back to.
Autumn birds fly south in patterns.
(adjective-adverb-preposition)
First time I went down to stoke the furnace,
Smoke drove us out of the room.
The landlord tried to show me
The trick of banking fires
So the thing would burn all night.
With three whooshes of the shovel
He did it just right every time.
Guided by instinct autumn birds fly south
in patterns to demonstrate
the mastering of seasons.
(participle-infinitive-gerund)
I thirst after January sun
Warming my back through a cotton jacket.
Why should the devil
Have all the good climates?
I hunger after March daffodils.
I see by my outfit
That I am some kind of nut.
Twice the furnace came near to exploding;
Often I waked up shivering.
Guided by instinct autumn birds
fly south in patterns to demonstrate
the mastering of seasons, but the man
has not learned how natives build fires
that stay controlled
and burn until morning.
(compound-complex)
Grammar lesson is over.
The smeared and chilly slate
No longer has meaning.
A kindling rage changed nothing.
Nothing glows any more.
