Issue 11
Roam
Roger Pfingston
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Canoeing at Night on White Lake
While ships bellow a mile away
on Lake Michigan, we push
through fog, spikeweed,
eerie fingers of dead alewives,
our paddles rippling the moon
the dragonfly rides.
The dis-
embodied voices of fog talk
ghost the shore till pier, beach
and lighted cabins float before us
and we disappear up the path,
blurred beings of a nether land.
~Roger Pfingston
Roger Pfingston's work has appeared recently in Red River Review and Salt River Review. A chapbook, Singing to the Garden, will be published in early 2003 by Parallel Press at the University of Wisconsin -- Madison.
© 2003 by Roger Pfingston. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.