The Poem of PoemsbyGreg Alan Brownderville

A boy passes ghost-like through a curtain of weeping willow.In rainbow-stained apparel, birds are singing a cappella.Suddenly I sense it, in the birds and in the child: The world is a poem growing wild.

A dewdrop on a blade of grass soon slips from where it clungLike a perfect word that gathers on the tip of a poet's tongue.And men are merely characters to love and be defiled.God is a poem growing wild.

This is a fine contemporary poem in the mystic tradition of Blake and Whitman. Jack Butler and Greg Brownderville are both "Arkansas" boys . . . there must be something in the water down there, or perhaps it's in the mayhaw jelly.