Seeds Planted in a Fertile Mind
Kenneth P. Gurney
Kenneth P. Gurney Page 1
  [Listen to a reading of this poem.]

Before I get to the end
of the phone line,
I must count
all the dandelion seeds
afloat in the state
of Nebraska, while
my right hand
begins to merge
with a stained glass
construction of the Christ
with loaves and fishes
and a black horsefly
washes its hands
while sitting

on my big toe
as it sings a prayer
to be near the deer
the drunk hunter
manages to focus
his aim upon
just before the artificial
thunder reverberates
through the yard
where the phone's
long, long cord
barely stretches
to bring your words
to sink into my ear.