Papa Hambone

Plain text: Ogoki Post by George Vukelich The Albany in flood at Ogoki Post. In the Hudson Bay store, our host the young Scotsman waits to be free. He hates this life and the loneliness most. Across the river, a village of Cree knowing the white man, waiting to see…

This poem was published in the June, 1974 edition of Poet: An International Monthly. Plain text: One Night, Fishing   by George Vukelich One night, fishing from the pier I felt a living presence near. Turning to see, turning to hear I saw the bullfrog on the beach. His marsh…

Plain text: Morning in the Midwest by George Vukelich The First Edition and the breakfast table. They are having floods in California Texas needs rain Closer to home some insane woman leaped to her death from a downtown hotel. Luckily it was not rush hour. Sawdust on our city street…

Plain text: Holy Places by George Vukelich In those days they told us where the holy places were. Mostly places with priests around and crosses sticking in the ground. In these days we don’t tell them where the holy places are. Mostly places without priests or crosses sticking in the…

Plain text: Finally, Faith by George Vukelich Finally, finally. I have learned one thing after all. If the birds believed they could not fly. Then the birds would fall.

Plain text: Flowage in the Fall by George Vukelich The old man has fished this place for years. We fished it only yesterday. One last pike for old times sake before the winter takes this lake. He was not too big but big enough. Still the old man put him…

Plain text: Deer Yard by George Vukelich Where the current is swift the streams won’t freeze. The deer will yard in the sheltering trees. In this valley all winter long the days are short, yet the sun is strong. With the temperature thirty on a windless day you would swear…

Plain text: Farm in December by George Vukelich The land lies sleeping in the snow. The farm now warm and tight and snug. Feather ticks and ticking clocks. A blue spruce tree and Christmas socks. Rich fruit cake and fat rum balls. A piney smell all through the halls. Mama…