Thursday, January 9, 2014


image by glenn buttkus


“The grave is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light,
through a brief darkness.”--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Train rails, highways for tall steel wheels, adorn
trestles & span rivers.

When great bridges sprout in people’s yards,
they intimidate the perspective.

The metal gate was betrayed by rust and an
ineffective padlock. 

I love those odd places where line and texture
finally procreate. 

I swear I met a troll named Red Sammy
under the bridge yesterday. 

An antique brass street clock stately stood in
a neighbor’s hidden back yard. 

A plywood pallet stoutly supports both
of our refuse containers. 

A rusty pioneer plow, with rotting harness,
suffices as yard art. 

The colossal ferris wheel, during early morning,
began to crave crowds. 

Standing in deep shadow, the sad sunflower
was still stretching & yawning. 

Cement flowers will gather living moss lichen
as decorations. 

That day, all the sagging windows wore
identical white uniforms. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB

Would you like the author to read these American Sentences to you?


Anonymous said...

Glenn I thought your poem was truly inspired. Beautifully written. I like the way you taxied down the runway at first and then just let go. Really a pleasure to listen to you read it as well. >KB

Claudia said...

cool..the american sentences work so well here and carry the images the ferris wheel and the cement flowers gathering moss esp.

Anonymous said...

I love the trestle bridges of old-time American railroads. They're just not the kind of thing we would ever have allowed in the old country ... smiles.

Of your sentences, the betrayed gate is my favourite, but you have several other fine lines here.

Wolfsrosebud said...

I so got into metal bridges this past year... maybe it's their strength... your piece showed that sense of strong voice

Brian Miller said... how you put this together brother...all the details...ha its fun when elements come together that usually dont as well...we have a guy up here with some really interesting yard art...just saying...a 10 ft flip flop.....

Laurie Kolp said...

ahh... I especially like:

The metal gate was betrayed by rust and an
ineffective padlock

& the sunflower one...

Anonymous said...

This was fantastic! I loved this line in particular:
"I love those odd places where line and texture finally procreate."
I could see that perfectly in my mind's eye.

brudberg said...

Oh these sentences were truly perfect.. Especially the sunflower one... We are both lovers of these American sentences

Grace said...

Terrific verses Glenn, I specially like the ferris wheel, sunflowers and sagging windows ~ There's power in those verses which you can further expand, smiles

Victoria said...

Ah, the fascination and metaphoric potential of bridges. How nicely you've rendered this one. I love reading and working with the American Sentence.

Anonymous said...

I especially like the final couplet. Well read, too ~

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Love your sentences - especially the fifth and eleventh.
Happy New Year Glenn!
Anna :o]

Mary said...

You really write what you know and see, Glenn. This is obvious in this poem.

Ron Shields said...

Really great American sentences...I can't pick out a favorite - love them all. Like the reading also.

Bodhirose said...

I like the idea of the images not really the bridges sprouting in people's yards, etc. Love the troll under the bridge too. Strong and intriguing images throughout.

kaykuala said...

White snow and rusty things all make for the American scenario in many a backyard.One can't really make them out before the snow drifted. Very real and very well crafted Glenn! Great to listen in to complement the pic!


Paul Bauck said...

I love the mental image of line and texture procreating.

Jeff said...

All very well done, but I especially enjoyed the last image. Excellent!

vivinfrance said...

A really wonderful play with words. Most enjoyable.

Margaret said...

"Where line and form finally procreate" … I find the older construction to be most interesting - a time when people took pride in their work. You have a fine eye for detail and it sits spendidly in your poetry!

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