Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THAT VAGRANT MISTRAL VEXING THE SUN: A FAR CRY , by DARA WIER

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THAT VAGRANT MISTRAL VEXING THE SUN: A FAR CRY , by             Poet's Biography
First Line: I washed my brain and hung it to dry
Last Line: For birds, in lieu fo words, and seeds
Subject(s): Language

Saints on wallpaper, in carts and minivans,
saints on carpets, in intervals, crawlspaces
teeming with saints, a tidy sum of them massing
on the flagpoles. I once saw a saint sink
into a hammock and another sit on a hassock
and one fall asleep on an ottoman.
I saw a saint smiling at me.
Their smiles are so enigmatic, no teeth showing,
no spittle, no sputtering, almost nothing.
I thought I heard a saint in a surrey clomping
through the night-vistas, chewing on something.
A saint on a beeline.
A saint with a bell on.
I saw a saint walk halfway across a room
using all ten saintly toes at a time.
I couldn't complete that saint's thought.
I heard a saint bark.
I saw a saint's footprints in a cornfield
and followed them.
I found a saint on a string, sleeping by the foot of a singing boy.
Four saints entertained me with their arias.
I saw a small saint chase a large saint for the fun
of it.
I saw a saint smoke a cigarette and one paint a
I listened to a saint beat on a soup pot.
A picture of a saint walking with a tiger
on a city street nearly stopped my heart.
I bought a needlepoint bookmark in a saint's shop.
A saint wrote my name on a grain of rice and fed
it to a titmouse.
A saint with good coordination, with patience, a saint
with a mission, with a good curveball.
A saint called me on the phone so that saintly voice
could soothe my ragged brain waves.
A saint offered me good advice.
I watched a saint open a book and stare off into space.
A saint surrounded me and sorted my dreams from my nightmares.
I saw a saint unbutton a shirt.
I felt a saint's breath flow into my ear.
I saw a saint stand on a branch and bounce into thin air.

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