poem index

Ho Ho Ho Caribou

Joseph Ceravolo

I

Leaped at the caribou. My son looked at the caribou. The kangaroo leaped on the fruit tree. I am a white man and my children are hungry which is like paradise. The doll is sleeping. It lay down to creep into the plate. It was clean and flying.

II

Where you...the axes are. Why is this home so hard. So much like the sent over the courses below the home having a porch. Felt it on my gate in the place where caribous jumped over. Where geese sons and pouches of daughters look at me and say "I'm hungry daddy."

III

Not alone in the gastrous desert. We are looking at the caribous out in the water swimming around. We want to go in the ocean along the dunes. Where do we like? Like little lice in the sand we look into a fruit expanse. Oh the sky is so cold. We run into the water. Lice in heaven.

IV

My heel. Ten o'clock the class. Underwater fish brush by us. Oh leg not reaching! The show is stopping at the sky to drive in the truck. Tell us where to stop and eat. And drink which comes to us out in the sand is at a star. My pants are damp. Is tonight treating us but not reaching through the window.

V

Where is that bug going? Why are your hips rounded as the sand? What is jewelry? Baby sleeps. Sleeping on the cliff is dangerous. The television of all voice is way far behind. Do we flow nothing? Where did you follow that bug to? See quick......is flying

VI

Caribou, what have I done? See how her heart moves like a little bug......under my thumb. Throw me deeply. I am the floes. Ho ho ho caribou, light brown and wetness caribou. I stink and I know it. "Screw you!...you're right."

VII

Everyone has seen us out with the caribou but no one has seen us out in the car. You passed beyond us. We saw your knees but the other night we couldn't call you. You were more far than a widow feeling you. Nothing has been terrible. We are the people who have been running with animals. More than when we run?

VIII

Tell us where o eat to stop and eat. The diner is never gonna come. The forest things are passing. I did drink my milk like a mother of wolves. Wolves on the desert of ice cold love, of fireproof breasts and the breast I took like snow. Following me I love you and I fall beyond and I eat you like a bow and arrow withering in the desert.

IX

No one should be mean. Making affection and all the green winters wide awake. Blubber is desert. Out on the firm lake, o firm and aboriginal kiss. To dance, to hunt, to sing, no one should be mean. Not needing these things.

X

Like a flower, little light, you open and we make believe we die. We die all around you like a snake in a well and we come up out of the warm well and are born again out of dry mammas, nourishing mammas, always holding you as I love you and am revived inside you, but die in you and am never born again in the same place; never stop!

From The Green Lake is Awake. Copyright © 1994 by Joseph Ceravolo. Published by Coffee House Press. Used by permission of the publisher.

Joseph Ceravolo

by this poet

poem

Oak oak! like like
it then
   cold some wild paddle
so sky then;
flea you say
“geese geese” the boy
June of winter
of again
Oak sky