Goldenrod Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Sun burns cream
and silver
daylight into a brown
closet space
harboring taupe
yellow clouds

hanging down low
from sky's
drifting linen rod.


Splashed amber
clouds seize
fading sunny ridges
mulching sky's

pink and lemon
canvas and specks
of tawny feathers

to settle with
a sprawling cyber.

Clustered gold
cream flowers
in a garden
swirl on earth's
dancing floor,

and creep into
a bumblebee
hue with dusk's
tuscany soft fire

running to stroke
a flax cornfield
sunbaked to pull
sky's edges
to break, spilling

over a farmer's
sprawling laguna
unshaven field

dented and gouged
by the hooves
of stray ambling cows

mooing with
a cooing bird until
sky falls on earth.

(ii)

The bird flies
off to its home
in a seedy
eucalyptus tree

shedding funnels
of seeds,
thick hickory
hollow nuts, as leaves
and branches

of clouds click
and crackle
and sweep
through earth's specks
and patches

worn by drooping
unharvested
torn corn cobs

barking in their
brown dog ears,

an itchy farmer
not hearing
the call for a complete
harvest, as more

baked cornfields
yawn, gold grains
of corn spread
to sow interwoven

ridges of gold
a yellow creeping dusk
over a bonfire's
ashy ecru hearth

softly churning
reddish brown coals
popping to pull

the farmer from
his galloping
panting horse

in a spiraling wind
chewing off
the limping, crawling
fire and smoke

of a thick-bearded
evening wearing
a hat of orange moonlight

nibbled off
by a large-mouthed
carob smoke

still spreading
stretchy tentacles into
aburning
volcano-lipped night.
behind a cornfield,

cobs stroking
wind-swung goatees
of graphite tassels.