They
themselves, Finley, Moos,
and whoever else. Rebecca Ramsden.
Any ardent soul who wants to join.
Hiawatha himself with his feet in Minnehaha Creek,
possibly preparing to train nukes on St. Paul
(as Mike Finley has established in his work on Hiawatha’s
mayoral candidacy).
and whoever else. Rebecca Ramsden.
Any ardent soul who wants to join.
Hiawatha himself with his feet in Minnehaha Creek,
possibly preparing to train nukes on St. Paul
(as Mike Finley has established in his work on Hiawatha’s
mayoral candidacy).
But
they took selfies on the way
to Trotter’s Cafe (no longer “Trotter’s Cafe and Bakery”) –
pictures of their shadow on the alley pavement as they walked West,
bushy beard and hair,
magical Civil War vet cap,
which in normal light has a horny toad on it,
elongated fun-house legs flowing up from their cute little feet –
it took two shots to get ‘em all in.
to Trotter’s Cafe (no longer “Trotter’s Cafe and Bakery”) –
pictures of their shadow on the alley pavement as they walked West,
bushy beard and hair,
magical Civil War vet cap,
which in normal light has a horny toad on it,
elongated fun-house legs flowing up from their cute little feet –
it took two shots to get ‘em all in.
Hiawatha’s
a bread baker now, I hear.
He sleeps on Summit Avenue in St. Paul sometimes
when he isn’t sleeping with Minnehaha
in the falls.
He sleeps on Summit Avenue in St. Paul sometimes
when he isn’t sleeping with Minnehaha
in the falls.
But
at this particular moment they’re sitting
with their back in a crook of rock above the Mississippi river.
Minnehaha joins at a point South of here – it’s confusing,
with the Minnesota also running in
from the West farther down.
with their back in a crook of rock above the Mississippi river.
Minnehaha joins at a point South of here – it’s confusing,
with the Minnesota also running in
from the West farther down.
Hiawatha
belongs in the West, with his alleged nukes,
his two headband feathers, and his empty quiver,
soon to be empty no more –
as whose gaze moves westward
from these muddy rocks nearby,
pale-green Spring canopy all up and down the river,
water barely flowing to the eye,
moving South-East perhaps
from whose body, pointed North-West –
never reckoning which direction the Mississippi goes through here,
as a reliable Minneapolis compass has never been known.
There’s
a big charcoal markhis two headband feathers, and his empty quiver,
soon to be empty no more –
as whose gaze moves westward
from these muddy rocks nearby,
pale-green Spring canopy all up and down the river,
water barely flowing to the eye,
moving South-East perhaps
from whose body, pointed North-West –
never reckoning which direction the Mississippi goes through here,
as a reliable Minneapolis compass has never been known.
near where who is leaning on this creamy Platteville limestone.
Someone built a big fire here (how beautiful
it must have looked to anyone from those Western bluffs!)
Standing up, putting away their orange notebook –
a little wobbly at the edge of such a drop –
and continuing their walk through this monstrous Mississippi ravine
past Shadow Falls:
thinking about a new school of poetry –
writers who’ve grappled with the entire Hiawatha issue –
his possible-to-likely future possession of weapons of mass destruction,
the intentions he nurses with regard to our green shamrock city of St Paul –
not failing to admit and concede
his clear beef.
Someone built a big fire here (how beautiful
it must have looked to anyone from those Western bluffs!)
Standing up, putting away their orange notebook –
a little wobbly at the edge of such a drop –
and continuing their walk through this monstrous Mississippi ravine
past Shadow Falls:
thinking about a new school of poetry –
writers who’ve grappled with the entire Hiawatha issue –
his possible-to-likely future possession of weapons of mass destruction,
the intentions he nurses with regard to our green shamrock city of St Paul –
not failing to admit and concede
his clear beef.
