A whole neighborhood rises up beside me—
camper shell and fishing poles, midnight walking,
traveling isolated road past leaning stop signs,
past campers parked, full grain trucks lumbering
through fields of tiny holes,
a banner billowing above a door, a bike on the road
as a truck pulls away,
a land that followed its own order and great rules,
rivers of whales, an island trip, a wink for everyone,
for all stations in life, a special providence—
by descending order of frequency
their religious fetishes:
1 camp
29 campaigner
1 campfire
2 campfires
1 camping
1 camps
2 hats
87 hast
15 haste
4 hat
1 hatch
2 hatched
1 sheath
1 sheep
4 sheering
1 sheet
2 shell
3 shells
1 spiral
2 series sooner
7 tug a turtle
1 chock
1 jetsam
—a pair of geese hung from a latticework of stout,
a hunting song, a road song,
people glad to celebrate May Day in the unusual night,
a door covered with hash marks, nymphs that light,
war as the soldiers see it, the dusk appeared
into view with its blooming filled with so many holes,
road wind moves rustling maps, by expeditions
and the cautious gleaning,
naked black as a sinker, hook of pearl
out there just off the shoreline,
movement in nearby branches or rustling leaves,
rustling and hissing in the rubbish,
a few poles stuck in the ground,
clapboard, cedar boughs, and cornstalks,
out there just off the shoreline,
the barn with its haymow where hens lay eggs,
and,
not afraid of the cold and the snow,
we hid apples to ripen.
