THREE GHOSTS

1.flower day

On Flower Day exiles remember
the dead, with milk
and flowers placed on standing stones.
This Land of the Grandmother
is like any unchosen land.

Prodigal deposits of mineral equity
wait to be taken from under feet.
Threadbare prairies marked by cairns
veil snake holes from needles of rain.

They who once knew no borders
now edge a well defined emptiness,
for only unturned fields were esteemed
by the parents preserved below
these memorials bearing English

translations of names
recent generations
would find hard to pronounce.

2. watchers
Gaping spirits watch
through mica windows at Acoma.
Some have matted hair,

curled finger nails,
Some still have lips,
and eye lids.


They watch water carriers
zigzagging up the mesa trail.
They see coffee pots, medicine

bottles a few inches tall.
They watch children, old women
burnishing ceramics,

young men circling want ads,
brides bathing,
old uncles playing cards,

house cats lost in the hunt.
They see vapor trails discarded
by intercontinental flights.

Some have no right hands
or left feet. All were once
heaving loaves of birth.

Watching is all they can do.

3. Cahokia
When people
were allowed to believe the World

had come to an end
centuries before William Henry Harrison,
no East St. Louis was dreamt of
on virulent prairies near Cahokia.

We may now pretend to taste russet
formulations of remedy, and admire
the elegant emissaries dispatched
by the curious Lord Thirteen Rabbit.

We may guess the rustle
of bright vestments woven from feathers,
and of solemn farm families worshiping
virgin demigoddesses tied in a row.

We may look at the man made mountain
once crowned by a temple zenith;
while sweeping along an interstate
before crossing again, the Mississippi.

We may dream the chant of prayer
that was an apology feebly addressed
to ancestors, posted by archaeology
from the last day of the World.


One Brief Man
1.
Sweet air wreaths the crown of this hill
transcending cast concrete gargoyles.
No smokestack plume or fume can wound

my mindıs mirage, delicate as it is.
Inhale the perfumes of measured quadrilles
and hope that brutality must be transient.

2.
Emerged from path to gardenıs gate
far from oil rainbows of street
an orchard edged meadow relaxes untilled.

Retreat into vespertine hallucinations
while gaunt lungs inhale the perfumes
of measured quadrilles and let

the denouement of night go unweighed.
No hand of providence will ever reveal
a just soliloquy over ruins where tonight
an orchard edged meadow relaxes untilled.

3.
Destitute erudition may but weep;
for a commonwealıs fate as it is sealed
is undecipherable for being unwritten.

No hand of providence will ever reveal
why on plain, mountain, and burial ground
all flags are bound to fall from staves

to tumble like pheasants shot in spring.
In shouts of libraries a few must beg why
a commonwealıs fate is suppressed

as it is is sealed and why no harvest
may spring from a salted field.
In this place destruction smiles as flags

are bound to fall from staves as cloisters
of undreamt millennia savor seeds fallen
from ingested fruits that hermit thrushes
and cardinals have passed.

4.
Upon my pillar with every grain, though
no harvest may spring from salted field
I storm a jubilee tonight as jewels

bless my drop of shadow under this moon,
scattered in emerald oceans of leaf for
what am I to do but choose fruit and die?

Succulent consequences in this garden
grow to be more exquisite than any dream
or sucre as jewels of emerald archipelago

forgive my retreat from this poor city.
Broad branches touch soft flowers below
to proclaim to mantis, and ladybug

succulent dreams in this garden grow
and one brief man will may have this juice.
Emerged from path to gardenıs gate

a few minutes alone here will be enough
as broad branches touch soft flowers below
enraptured eyes and coughing breath;
sweet air wreaths the crown of this hill.

PUBLICATIONS
Marc's poetry has been selected by more than eighty print and electronic  journals including; Humanitas, Writers Journal, The Vincent  Bros.Review, Plainsongs, Poetry Reload, The Astrophysicists Tango  Partner Speaks, and others. A complete list of awards, and publications is  available on request.

Marc Awodey of Burlington, Vermont, has an M.F.A. from Cranbrook Academy of Art.