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Tree Rings
A Collection of
Duncan Family Poetry
 December 2017
Each author retains sole copyright to his or her contributions to this book.
It is intended as a family keepsake, not for commercial trade or distribution.

Cover photograph credit belongs to Steven Duncan.

Title page art credit goes to nightwolfdezines (www.vecteezy.com).
This book was created using the Blurb creative publishing service.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Family Pedigree 2 ----------------
Foreword 5 Steven Duncan
Beyond the Dawn 6 Lyman Duncan
Colors 7 Haley Duncan
On my Typewriter... 8 Brian Duncan
In Dead-May-June 9 Brian Duncan
Golden Eagle 10 Luno Solis
From Him Who Never... 11 Lyman Duncan
Betrayal 12 Brian Duncan
Untitled 13 Joel Hills Johnson
Nicotine OD 14 Nicole Wilson
Getting Rubus Ideas 15 Steven Duncan
A Production of Hands 16 Brian Duncan
Gift of Time 17 Gary Duncan
On Mother's Day 18 Gary Duncan
The Children 19 George W. Johnson
My Angel Pants 20 Lyman Duncan
Carrying 21 Steven Duncan
The Oak Tree 22 Misha Duncan
Family Photographs 23 Elvin Duncan
Past Winter Days 24 Haley Duncan
The Last Rose in Autumn 25 George W. Johnson
High on a Mountain Top 26 Joel Hills Johnson
A Child's Death 27 Misha Duncan
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
When We Parted by the... 28 Lyman Duncan
Space Flower of my Heart 29 Brian Duncan
To My Mother 30 Joel Hills Johnson
Blurred Thoughts 31 Haley Duncan
His Gift 32 Misha Duncan
O That's the God for Me 34 George W. Johnson
Sleepy Buckaroo 35 Lyman Duncan
Baptism for the Dead 36 Joel Hills Johnson
It's Your Birthday 37 Elvin Duncan
A Patient Heart 38 Lyman Duncan
Home 40 Steven Duncan
Praying to Dad 41 Steven Duncan
Our Utah Home 42 George W. Johnson
Gollum 43 Brian Duncan
Pioneer Children 44 Steven Duncan
A Portrait of the Missouri... 45 Joel Hills Johnson
Moonlight on the... 48 Lyman Duncan
Spring and Fall 49 Elvin Duncan
In the Dark 50 Steven Duncan
The MTV Generation 52 Nicole Wilson
Winter Comfort 54 Elvin Duncan
Worth 55 Misha Duncan
Presumption 57 Steven Duncan
We Shall Meet 60 George W. Johnson
TABLE OF CONTENTS
You 61 Gary Duncan
To a Pal 63 Lyman Duncan
On a Photograph 64 George W. Johnson
Self-Pity 65 Misha Duncan
Warning 66 Haley Duncan
Oh, Friend 67 Brian Duncan
Untitled 68 Gary Duncan
Campfire Embers 69 Lyman Duncan
July 24th, 1884 71 George W. Johnson
(In the Fall) 72 Steven Duncan
The Moon and the Clouds 73 Elvin Duncan
Amazed with Wonder! 74 Joel Hills Johnson
Angels Camp 75 Elvin Duncan
Burning in the Rain 76 Elvin Duncan
Hymn 2 77 Joel Hills Johnson
Freedom and Liberty 78 George W. Johnson
They're Throwing Fruit! 79 Brian Duncan
Pest Control 80 Steven Duncan
Untitled 81 Gary Duncan
Lessons of Life 82 Gary Duncan
The Two Martyrs, Sent... 83 Joel Hills Johnson
In the Park 84 Steven Duncan
After "Fire and Ice" 85 Misha Duncan
Red Dutch Faery Tales 86 Elvin Duncan
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Untitled 87 Haley Duncan
Paddle Your Own... 88 George W. Johnson
Sad Whale Song 90 Brian Duncan
Dinah Marue 91 Lyman Duncan
Spilling Heaven 92 Steven Duncan
Kiki and Bouba 93 Brian Duncan
Sunup on the River 95 Lyman Duncan
Room to Grow 96 Nicole Wilson
In the Summertime 97 Elvin Duncan
The Joy and the Song 98 Julia Hills
A Dream of Home 99 George W. Johnson
Tallinn 101 Steven Duncan
Hymn 186 102 Joel Hills Johnson
The Old Kirtland... 103 George W. Johnson
Crosswalks 104 Brian Duncan
Heart and Hearth 106 Elvin Duncan
A Dime 107 Lyman Duncan
Time is Fleeting 108 George W. Johnson
Ye Old South Sea 110 Lyman Duncan
Muscle Memory 111 Steven Duncan
Concrete Poem 113 Misha Duncan
Hymn 283 114 Joel Hills Johnson
Joining the Firmament 115 Lyman Duncan
Tree Rings

Duncan Family Poetry

1
2
James Theodore Duncan
Ezekial Johnson Jr.
Alice Bell Gohrman
Julia Hills

Elvin Theodore Duncan

George Washington Johnson
Bethenia Leona Johnson
Eveline Burdick
Alden Burdick
Family Pedigree

Lyman Elvin Duncan Joseph Horace Johnson Jerusha Parks

Marvene Duncan Julia Hills Eager

John Edwin Heward Thomas Eager

Hazel Turley Lucy Buell
John Eager
Sariah Anna Johnson

Joel Hills Johnson

Anna Pixley
 Travis Eddy
Alisha Eddy Kelly Eddy
Tyler Eddy Marilyn Duncan

Grant Duncan
Haley Duncan
Family Pedigree

Elvin Lowell Duncan Lyman E. Duncan

Ignacio Solis Lisa Jean DiStanislao Marvene Duncan

Luno Solis
Nicole Wilson

Jared Duncan
Jennifer Wilson
Brian Duncan Gary Don Duncan
Steven Duncan Tera Lynn Bates

3
Misha Duncan
4
Foreword
Steven Duncan

We inherit from our ancestors gifts so often taken for granted. Each of us
contains within our fragile vessels of skin and bones and cells this inheritance
of soul. We are links between the ages, containing past and present expectations,
sacred memories and future promise. - Edward Sellner

The works of poetry included in this volume date back to the

early 1830s, spanning eight generations. Each page contains original
writings from members of the Duncan/Johnson family. Whether or
not you believe in a 'poetry gene' is up to you (but I'm convinced).

The roots of our family tree run deep, always binding us

together even as our branches spread apart. These poems have
formed like tree rings, pulsing outward, each unique and fixed in
time. Many words are centered on themes of life, death, faith, and
love. Our memories have become poems, which it turn became
memories, which became poems until the difference blurred away
altogether. Perhaps as we read well see glimmering reflections of
ourselves, or catch a glimpse of what connects us beyond our shared
DNA. Perhaps we will see each other in a new way.

This compilation of poems is a love letter to our family. In

that same spirit, I hope it awakens a greater love in us for poetry
and for each other. May it serve as a source of inspiration,
understanding, and sense of belonging for us and our children when
they find it many years from now, dusty and undiscovered on the
shelf.

Warmest,
Steven

5
Beyond the Dawn
Lyman Duncan

Toward the dawn

I see a land
of pinkish gray
and a paling yellow crown,
and tender blue,
like gentians stayed too long;
while the stars are dressed
in a whispering glow.

I should like
to flaunt this world
and pack my troubles
and catch a floating cloud
going East,
and go, ever and ever
eastwardly,
to that land
beyond the dawn
that far horizon
of gray
and yellow
that is old,
and pink
Id love to hold.

6
Colors
Haley Duncan

If you had the choice,

would you erase all your scars?
Siphon any traces of sadness from your voice?
Or would you continue to suffer under the night sky without any stars?

How good would it feel to be free from all anger, despair, and
wondering?
But with that emptiness a quiet grey tragedy would surface,
encompassing everything.
I would like to forget,
but I wouldnt be me,
the experiences that helped me grow would be lost,
and with them so would my colors,
the shades of which I paint everything.

7
On my Typewriter De Lux I drew pictures of.
Brian Duncan, after E.E. Cummings

On my Typewriter De Luxe I drew pictures

of.
T he
worldsDevastation
. with only
, the letters T and D
(T
hey
D
isa
gr eed

wi th
me
)
.

8
In Dead-May-June
Brian Duncan, after E.E. Cummings

June when the bugs puddle up giddy

lung-rocks Clay-Hands-Hold-Her
goosefeather shoulders

wheezes upward and beyond

and the filthbirds come near shudderfalling,
shudderfalling
shudder
from
The skys
openhive
holes
its
(Not Yet Noon) its
Dead-MayJune
, when the bugs puddle up
and the churchworship lung-rocks brittLe
LitttLe clay hands
touch and shape her Wormwood shoulders wheezes
upward and beyond

9
Golden Eagle
Luno Solis, a haiku

The golden eagle

is absolutely hungry
I swoop down on prey

10
From Him Who Never Came Back
Lyman Duncan

Oh, to stand on the precipice,

the mighty Colorado below
to forget care (feel spring in the air)
and let myself go.
Oh, God of the Step Beyond,
I leave my song to the winds,
my love in the morning sky,
my art in the sunset of the desert.

Oh, Keeper of the Canyon Depth,
how infinitely small I feel
how utterly hopeless
how dwarfed my ambitions
against this canyon wall.

The lure of the depth of canyon magic
pulls me oer the canyons edge
(I cannot hold back)
my soul swift as a bird soaring
(like the song from a beautiful heart)
will cross the bridgeless span.
Love, life and love have palled a moment
(in the spell of canyon magic).

And in that movement, I gave myself
to the God of the Step Across the Chasm
I gave my songs to the winds
left my love to you in the morning sky
my art in the sunset of the desert...

11
Betrayal
Brian Duncan

Skin like twisted sheets

fissured in horrible winding lines,
tongue like a dry dishrag,
anguish in fabric eyes:
when you are betrayed,
your body turns to cloth.

12
Untitled
Joel Hills Johnson, to his daughter Sariah

God bless you my daughter forever

with comfort in sorrow and care
and power with trials to severe
that fills your kind heart with despair.

The Lord will soon come in His glory
to end the Saints bondage and strife
and John will come too! and restore thee
to mansions prepared for his wife.

Be patient and faithful in duty
no honors are found in this world
like diadems forming with beauty
to crown you with glory, dear girl.

13
Nicotine OD
Nicole Wilson

Theres cold in my bones

as I lie on the wood plank
overlooking the moonlit waves
thundering at surprising intervals
as the heavy smoke enters
then exits
my lungs.

I notice now that despite my heavy down jacket
my right side is trembling
and I force myself to acknowledge
and experience this raw sensation.

All at once the nicotine hits my brain,
I take in the sea of crisp stars
as they begin to spin.

A glance to the other side reveals
the desolate street illuminated only
by a faint orange glow from a lone street lamp.
It seems dusty and alone.

Im scared to stand up
and begin to navigate it
to get back home.
And I cant remember
when Ive missed you more.

14
Getting Rubus Ideas
Steven Duncan

Take me back
to the raspberry bush
grandly overhanging
my neighbors picket fence
vaulting in arabesque
from unknowable heights
drooping long and limp
in the afternoon heat
flaunting its red temptation
like an irresistible stoplight:

red means stop
red means yield
red means go

bulbous summer ornaments left on display
unguarded by thorns of conscience
so much riper than my morality,
so devastatingly sweet.

15
A Production of Hands
Brian Duncan

A cluster of children raised their real-hands, the question

being the trick of it. The answer irrelevant
it had always been an offering,
we collected it.

I saw
two men exchanging Hands today an act of love not uncommon but in so doing
their flesh-fingers brushed, unspeakable, and having brushed lingered in contact
as if exploring a lost landscape.

Their real-hands moved over each other like living creatures.

It seems that a poison has replaced the atmosphere
a fever grows, out of which
language has produced the most dangerous of constructs, a namethat lesh for
a ghost:

A Will to Touch.

We burned the ones we could but it wasnt enough
one by one then two by two then
more and more the sacred Hands
were forgotten, dropped, and in dropping shattered,
little white stones forming radii of litter everywhere

I watched
shadows creep like cracks into the corners of this white clay world.
.
All that we lost on that insacred Day
and yet, with tears in my eyes
I too applauded when
the Hands went away

16
Gift of Time
Gary Duncan

I dreamed a dream and saw a vision clear

a message came for me to hear.
Awake from the blindness of a life you do waste
your time is a precious gift, use it with haste.

For life is but a moment; there is so much to do
think about your actions, consider them anew
I awoke that morning and arose with a start
I fell to my knees and poured out my heart.

O Lord, another precious gift from thee
a new day; so full of opportunity.
What can I do that when this day is past
the fruit of my time will forever last?

One precious day among all the rest
what can I do today to pass my test?
To show thee that my heart is thine
and what I do, I do for thy purposes divine.

Bless me this day my time to not squander
keep me, I pray, that from thy path I not wander.
Teach me with wisdom that comes from above
how to serve thee and my neighbor with love.

Help me to know what I can do on this earth
to bless others lives in a way of true worth.
As I arise from my knees and go forward now
I make thee a promise; a solemn vow.

I will love thee dear Lord and my neighbor true
from now on, this promise will guide me in all that I do.

17
On Mother's Day
Gary Duncan
On Mothers Day this tribute I express
to you for my childrens lives you bless
with love and tender sweet caress
how beautiful your gift of happiness.

I thank my Father in Heaven above
for leading me to the perfect mate I dreamt of
and sending us angel children on the wings of a dove
that we may all bask in the warmth of your love.

How often I marvel as you nurture with care
and teach our children the gospel with wisdom so rare.
Carefully and thoughtfully with patience to spare,
you lead them to Light with the love that you share.

You are a marvelous mother in all that you do.
I love you so much and admire you too.
Thank you for giving your love unselfish and true;
thank you for being wonderful you.

18
The Children
George Washington Johnson

What is home without the children

crowding round the cottage hearth,
with their eyes forever beaming,
full of laughter, joy and mirth?
Sunny hair in ringlets, flowing,
oer a neck of pearly white,
little fingers, bent on mischief,
never still from morn til night.
Home is lonely without children;
how we miss their noisy mirth.
How we miss their gentle footsteps,
sitting, lonely, round our hearth.
How we miss their noisy prattle
and their joyous, childish glee.
How we miss their fond caresses,
as they sit upon our knee.
When the evening shadows gather,
and the daily toil is oer,
how we miss their noisy greeting
at our humble cottage door.
Heaven bless the darling children,
though they are a constant care;
they will be the brightest jewels
in the crown we hope to wear.

19
My Angel Pants
Lyman Duncan
I put on my gunny sack drawers
and gosh, they were so very holy
I called them my angel pants.

I turned my face to blush
for in the stillness of the hush
I thought I could hear you say
in your soft soprano way:
Whats this strange shape before my eyes
whose limbs and torso description defies?
Then I see in another glance
its old Lym in angel pants.

What thats a dimple I see
on that knocking knee!
And, why, yes it is so,
theres hair upon his chest!
Still, I wonder if theres a chance
hell do the hoola in his angel pants.

Now quit laughing at my flaws
for Im just a martyr for the cause.

For here stand I, in song and dance
stealing the show in angel pants
and I guess its not so very bad
even if my shape is all I had.
But in all the days to be
they will be ever dear to me
(these memories that I hold
of the show that I stoled)
in my gunny sack drawers
my angel pants.

20
Carrying
Steven Duncan

A spirit child in your arms,

you carried me to earth.
You whispered we would meet again
and parted at my birth.

In youth I learned about your life
and pondered privately.
I thought about the cross, and how
you carried it for me.

Throughout my life you carried me
in sun and clouded skies.
I found strength within your arms
and worth within your eyes.

Whenever pain and heaviness
sunk into the day
I laid my sorrow at your feet
you carried it away .

And so Ill carry you now, Lord.
Ill testify Thou art,
and wear your holy name upon
my nametag and my heart.

Ill give you my whole soul, my will
and be a missionary
to kneel before you, worthy of
the tokens that you carry.

21
The Oak Tree
Misha Duncan, after Shel Silverstein

Under the oak tree I sit and think

its calm, and quiet and still
the leaves hover over and create perfect shade
the birds stop by to serenade
no troubles or fears or sorrow to evade
the serenity under the oak.

22
Family Photographs
Elvin Duncan

Those old family photographs

you're looking my age or younger
with three little tow heads
while daddy snaps the picture

You gave us the best years of your life
back then I didn't realize
but what a sacrifice
sometimes I wonder if I'm too selfish
to pay that kind of price

You can say that kids give you a lot
but they are just too young to know that
we did the taking, you did the giving
and there was so much to find
in the example of your life's warmth and advice

The eye of the camera clicks again
and I see you with your grandkids
I remember how you smiled and cuddled me that way
and all those other happy days
Mom, you made childhood a dream come true
I can't help but love you

23
Past Winter Days
Haley Duncan

I remember sitting there,

watching the smoke from their cigarette,
orange embers glowing in the night,
and loving them for every second of that bad habit,
wanting them to quit so I could love them longer,
pale skin against the cold air.

I will not know their words anymore,
so, I cling to past bits of exposure.
Letters sent in the dead of night to open eyes.

I was filled with envy for another life,
where I was different,
meeting those embers in a later phase,
loving those bad habits out loud,
but I will never know the sensation of calling their name,
and sending my love,
so that my open eyes no longer envy.

24
The Last Rose in Autumn
George Washington Johnson

O thou beautiful flower,

why comest thou hither
when cold wintery wind
is abroad in the land,
and the frost on thy petals
will cause thee to shiver
and fall from thy stem
by its withering hand?

O, no. Ill not leave thee

by cold winds to perish,
so fondly Ill pluck thee
and bear thee away;
thy beauty and fragrance
so lovely Ill cherish
til thy beauty shall fade
and thy fragrance decay.

Thou art last of thy race;

to my cabin Ill bear thee;
thy beauty shall fade
in the vase on the wall.
But while thou remainest,
thy presence shall cheer me,
and thy fragrance shall float
in my bachelors hall.

25
High on a Mountain Top
Joel Hills Johnson, abridged

High on the mountain top

a banner is unfurled;
ye nations, now look up;
it waves to all the world;
in Deseret's sweet, peaceful land--
on Zion's mount behold it stand!

For God remembers still

his promise made of old
that he on Zion's hill
truth's standard would unfold!
Her light should there attract the gaze
of all the world in latter days.

His house shall there be reared

his glory to display;
and people shall be heard
in distant lands to say,
we'll now go up and serve the Lord,
obey his truth and learn his word.

For there we shall be taught

the law that will go forth,
with truth and wisdom fraught,
to govern all the earth;
forever there his ways we'll tread,
and save ourselves with all our dead.

26
A Child's Death
Misha Duncan, after Emily Dickinson

The window agape, chill air sweeps through

and rhythmically, a wave
the curtain sways lightly, the sun shines in
and proves the start of day.

However constant the light flows in
a lonely echo in the hall
the floor has no footsteps, the mirror no smile
just reflects the opposite wall.

Where once a small child played in the light
whose song filled the silence there
the emptiness now envelops the room
and chills the bed now bare.

27
When We Parted by the Colorado
Lyman Duncan

When slowly sinks the lonely western sun

then on my old guitar I so softly strum
a song with that sweet and tender melody
that you sang in the days that used to be.

That melody is the only delight
of a lonesome cowboy each night.
When the tiny campfire is burning
its then my heart is ever turning
to happy days of so long ago
when we parted by the Colorado.

Now under each tiny twinkling western star
I softly hum as I strum by old guitar
as I dream of the pal I long to see
and pining as I strum that old melody.

28
Space Flower of my Heart
Brian Duncan

O, space flower of my heart,

your petals are pink and blue and glow-y,
your sepals sharp but not too showy,
and O, how the man-moon quivers,
gazing upon your gaudy glitters.

29
To My Mother
Joel Hills Johnson

Thy home is in heaven, thy cares are all oer

thy spirit is now with the blest;
the sorrows of earth shall torment thee no more
for now thou hast gone to thy rest.

Thy children in sorrow are weeping around
the grave where thy ashes now lie;
thy life with sweet virtue and meekness was crowned
in death thou didst fear not to die.

Thy spirit hath triumphed oer death and the tomb
and mingled with spirits that pure
in yonder bright mansion, thy kindreds sweet home
who left thee and went there before.

Softly round her lone grave ye strangers now tread
her kindness to all did extend
come ye poor, halt and blind, your tears come and shed
for her who was always your friend.

Sleep on sweetest mother, thou lovely and dear
till Michael shall wake thee again.
Thy virtues remembered, thy childrens lone tear
shall cease not while love shall remain.

Farewell dearest mother, thy rest is secure
with those who have conquered through love
we hope soon to meet thee with those that are pure
and crowned with the righteous above.

30
Blurred Thoughts
Haley Duncan

White paint is chipping slowly

into the lake where I am rowing,
there is a long skinny arm over a shoulder somewhere.
Maybe I will live through the strokes of multicolored pen on paper,
through brushes of sore muscles into long hair,
a look in the mirror that stirs a longing for scents long dead and faded.
Bounding down a rainy road,
to a new life overflown,
to a new town never known.
Prying eyes will come back to see what is different,
to count all the changes,
the lines on your face,
but the breath in your lungs is clear,
with an exhale you had lost all fear.
They will return with more questions unanswered,
to a day where I will sit next to a warmth I used to know,
a familiar feeling flowing through my veins,
but then daydream fades to grey.

31
His Gift
Misha Duncan
I wanted to give something to the Lord.
so I gave all I had - all I was
my whole heart
wrapped in ribbon and courage
called to serve - set apart.

Even added some lace, to my box
full of time.
For the life He gave freely,
what was 2 years of mine?

Placed my might in the corner, next to
heart, mind, and strength.
Here's my will for Thy work, Lord
here's my voice - I'll be brave.

In the Savior of all
all my days I'll believe.
Tell the world of the news -
!

Glancing down at my gift, in my small
hands it layed.
Now unfit seems, insufficient
box too small, ribbon frayed.

My voice too uncertain, my heart
full of holes.
Thought my might would be stronger
thought they'd listen, but they won't.

32
That my box wasn't full, couldn't bear
Him to see.
All I had was not hardly
what a King's gift should be.

As my box then seemed empty, what I
didn't see
was that each day He filled it.
It was Him, never me.

He sent those who were ready, to small,
simple me.
Words that I failed to understand
He did, perfectly.

Like five loaves and two fishes, He my
gift magnified.
Every day in my weakness,
He had been by my side.

Where my love had not filled, He had poured
in His own.
Where my willing voice wavered,
His sound word calmed their storm.

My words spoke to their ears, but He
to their heart.
As His work marches forward
He let me be a part.

I wanted to give something to the Lord.

What I placed in His hands, He made
His own.
With newly trimmed ribbon, His gift
to me, all along.
33
O That's the God for Me
George Washington Johnson

The God that others worship

is not the God for me.
He is too frail and fickle;
He has no identity.
But Ive a God that rules supreme;
in natures works He may be seen,
in His majestic Beauty
O thats the God for me.
He is not a God of anger;
He is not a God of strife.
He is not a God delighting
in taking human life.
A God to love but not to fear;
His works proclaim it everywhere.
In love He rules his children
O thats the God for me.
I see Him in the sunshine
and in the opening flowers.
I hear Him in the zephyrs
that murmur in the bowers.
I feel His presence everywhere,
His gentle voice, His watchful care
is ever present with me
O thats the God for me.
I love the glorious springtime
that brings refreshing showers.
I love the fragrant summer
with all its buds and flowers.
I love fruit-laden autumn too
and winter with the frost and snow,
gifts of the God I worship
O thats the God for me.

34
Sleepy Buckaroo
Lyman Duncan

When darkness comes to the hill

and the dogies lay to rest
to the song of the whippoorwill
its the time I love the best
for then I know
Ill be ridin herd
in the long ago.

Ill be aroundin up
just a little dream
of days gone by
with my round-up queen.
Round-up days we knew
when she was my cowboy sweetheart
and I was a rough ridin buckaroo.
Ill be with her again,
be happy then,
when Im a sleepy-time buckaroo.

35
Baptism for the Dead
Joel Hills Johnson, abridged

The glorious gospel light has shone

in this the latter day,
with such intelligence that none
from truth need turn away.

For mong things which have been sealed,
and from the world kept hid;
the Lord has to His saints revealed,
as anciently He did.

As Christ to spirits went to preach,
who were in prison aid;
so many saints have gone to teach
the gospel to the dead.

And we for them can be baptized,
yes for our friends most dear!
That they can with the just be raisd,
when Gabriels trump they hear.

That they may come with Christ again,
when He to earth descends;
a thousand years with Him to reign,
and with their earthly friends.

Now, O! ye saints, rejoice today,
that you can saviors be,
for all your dead, who will obey
the gospel and be free.

36
It's Your Birthday
Elvin Duncan

It's your birthday

is there anything I can say?
Ignored once more as per your request
but there's no ignoring you
I'm your son and I can't deny it
in little ways it haunts me
the things I do
the things I say
reflections of something bigger than my life
a shadow all the same

Fathering a framework
with chosen words and fond support
gentle hand
still with this - you taught me to think
and I can be me
you gave me that right with certain pride
a birth right guaranteed
you helped me see

So, I am here and now your son
and I wear it on my sleeve
it's more to me than I can say
it's more than you can know
it comforts and it cuts
still I'm glad that you're my dad
what a present to me
and it's your birthday
it's your birthday

37
Patient Heart
Lyman Duncan

I knew youd come

just as you did,
across the hill at dusk
silhouetted against the evening sky.
Behind you
the red of desert dust
tinged with snow.

I remember
it was spring
and you had visions of greater things,
as I saw you go
over the horizon
and disappear, inch by inch
behind the hill
and my heart
went with you to guide you
and bring you back someday.

Thats why I knew youd come,
just as you did
across the hill and down
down the trail
by our cottonwoods,
down the lilac lane
you loved so well in spring.

38
Yes, it was dusk
and you were tall and dark
against the horizon
and you were whistling.
The anguish and heartache
of long waiting
went oer the hill
when my heart brought you
home.

39
Home
Steven Duncan

Home is spilled pancake batter, and a dog underfoot.

Home is notches on the doorframe for every year youve grown.
Home is microwave popcorn and a good book.
Home is a bubble bath and wet tiptoes
down the hallway.
Home is chicken soup for everyone.
Home is a band-aid from mom,
and a haven on lonely nights.
Home is mattress surfing and phone calls to grandma.
Home is the honk of a bicycle horn, and makeshift picnic baskets.
Home is missing socks and blanket forts.
Home is finding treasure under the couch cushions, and being
tucked in at night.
Home is breakfast for dinner, and laughing for no good reason.
Home is Saturday cartoon reruns and piggyback rides around the
kitchen table.
Home is being together, and dog pile on dad!
Home is the start of what really matters.
Home is one more story.

40
Praying to Dad
Steven Duncan

I know I cant
pray to people
who arent God.
But I do sometimes
when Im alone.
I talk to my dad
and ask him
why he had to die.
I tell him
that I miss him, but
I cant even see his face anymore.
I say Im sorry
and I dont know the reason why.
I tell him, I love you.
and wait for him to say it back.
Every time I hope that.
I tell him my regret:
I didnt hurt enough
if pain is the measure of
my love for him.
And I never say amen.

41
Our Utah Home
George Washington Johnson

O ye pleasant vales and ye mountain dales

of this dear chosen land,
o ye crystal rills from the snow-capped hills
that murmur oer the sand.

O ye waving grain where the desert plain

now blossoms like the rose,
where a chosen band from every land
now dwells in sweet repose.

O ye happy homes where the Saints have come

to do His holy will,
to learn Heavens will and sing His praise
and all His laws fulfill.

O ye favored land where His temples stand

from which His laws go forth,
while sin and crime in every clime
is swept from off the earth.

Then Christ again will come and reign

a thousand years below,
and peace and joy without delay
to every heart will flow.

42
Gollum
Brian Duncan
I.
a clammy hand reaches for a fish
the fish squirms away
the clammy hand splashes the surface of the water in rage
the hand is pale
the hand trembles
hungry

II.
cave life is not quiet
drips of water echo
louder
louder
stalagmites resonate
stalactites resonate
louder
louder
the cave is screaming
drip drop drip drip

43
Pioneer Children
Steven Duncan

We panned
for gold in the
sand. The brim of
my hat stretched
across California,
outsourcing shade
to Joshua trees.
As the heat churned
through dusty porches,
my sister
curled into
a paper doll.
Her bonnet strings
hung crossed,
twill cotton
collecting
words we whispered.
We caught summer
off guard,
playing out a memory
that wasn't our own.
Then came
plans to
pan for gold
in the bedtime sky.
That night,
our borrowed hats
were a eulogy.

44
A Portrait of the Missouri Mobs
Joel Hills Johnson, abridged

What has transpired within our land

of boasted light, and equal laws;
Id show that by oppressions hand.
the saints have bled without a cause.

For in our land, so high praisd up
for equal rights and gospel light;
the saints must drink the bitter cup,
of Persecution, Death, and Flight.

For they were settling in Far West,
upon Missouris fertile land;
not thinking any dare molest,
where eer Columbias colors stand.

They bought their lands of Government,
and paid for them as laws direct
To bey her laws they were content,
expecting she would them protect.

They built them houses, fenced their land,
were building mills, and chapels too;
and growing rich by ndustrious hand,
the source from which such blessings flow.

While thus their neighbors did them view,

(with evil thoughts from hellish powers),
they thus cried out, This will not do,
these lands and blessings shall be ours!

45
Come, let us drive them from their home,
or soon such numbers theyll obtain,
the Abolitionists will come
and take away our place and name.

And now to make ourselves appear
like men of fame, and great renown;
our consciences well quickly sear,
a lying spirit swallow down.

Then go abroad, and loud proclaim,
the Mormons wont our laws obey;
they cheat and steal, lie and defame,
and get their riches in this way.

And now to rid ourselves of them,
our countrys laws we will disdain;
well plunder, burn, rob, kill, condemn
and charge the Mormons with the same.

Thus all the State became a mob,

with Boggs, their Govnor, at their head;
which gave them power to kill and rob,
till many of the saints were dead.

They shot them down on every side,

and stripd them ere they ceasd to groan;
and children, who for mercy cried,
had all their brains to atoms blown.

And women too, were fired upon,
and sore abused in other ways;
such hellish deeds were scarcely known,
mong fiery Huns in ancient days.

46
Then all were forcd to leave the State,
robd of their clothing, goods and food;
their suffrings were extremely great,
by cold and hunger on the road.

No orphans cry, nor widows moan,
can pity or compassion find;
in winter cold, they must be gone,
with firesides to the mob resignd.

Old vetrans too, of seventy-six.
who once have fought for Liberty,
and bled, our righteous laws to affix,
are driven now by tyranny.

Twelve thousand souls, both young and old
were from their homes and houses cast,
to starve and perish in the cold,
without a shelter from the blast.

Description fails to paint the scene,
of horror, misery and distress;
yes, native language is too mean,
to paint it with its proper dress.

O! has that freedom disappeard,
for which our Fathers fought and bled;
has despotism so soon reard,
with anarchy, its deformed head?

O Liberty! where hast thou gone?
O Patriotism! whither fled?
And thou, O Justice! art not known,
O whither, whither hast thou hid?

47
Moonlight on the Mountain
Lyman Duncan

Tis hunters time in fall cometh a moon ago.

The moon on high is full tonight
and with deft and unseen wand
shades and etches my world.
Ah, goddess of beauty,
may it thus forever be!

Mountains against the stars
clothed in turbans of pale silver,
whose slopes like robes of midnight blue
surrender in broken line
to the russet brown of oak and quaken tree.

My cabin hearth is guarded
by long needled sentries clustered near
casting dark paths up to my door.
A coyote howls a lone lament
from yon moonlit ridge
and the silence of the night
again succumbs to beauty.

Long my vigil I keep
the open night watching
but my restless soul is crying
for the beauty of the night
may pass forever!

48
Spring and Fall
Elvin Duncan

Spring or Fall?
Can such a change be boring?
Or can enough ever be said?
Both of them are slightly damp
but - when do they start?
And - when do they end?

These seasons are good for getting ready
but they don't always say enough on their own
they're a transition

In the Fall you can rake up
what the Springtime introduced
you know -
little blossoms -
autumn leaves
the robin and then the squirrel
kites and then jack-o'-lanterns
school's out - then -
summer's over - too soon!

Make way for these seasons -
they live up to their names!

49
In the Dark
Steven Duncan
Loving you was like
getting dressed in the dark.
Eyes open and blind,
my fingers searched for the
fabric of your skin.
I traced your cotton curves
and trusted.

In the day, I discover
shirt half untucked, part unbuttoned,
a sock folded under,
not my belt,
what I felt
in the dimness of my lover
wasnt wrong,
but it wasnt right.

Loving you was like
getting dressed in the dark.
I pulled you over my head
like a hoodie
but couldnt find an exit.
My breathing grew thin
as you smothered me.
As I smothered myself with you.
I pulled you apart in every direction
searching for a way out,
impatient for air,
hands tight,
not knowing
that love could ever be
backwards like that.
So inescapable all of the sudden.

50
Loving you was like
getting dressed in the dark.
Eyes open and blind,
my fingers found their way to
the pull-cord lamp.
I never meant to regret you.

51
The MTV Generation
Nicole Wilson
The whirr, the buzz,
the thumpin beat.
A flash of well-timed light.

Skinny girls in string bikinis
breasts bouncing like ripe apples
guys with chiseled arms and abs,
tattoos, holes gaping in their ear lobes.
Shoes with ridiculous laces, much too big.

She beams as she announces spring break
with not-so-subtle
sexual overtones.
His defined features respond in perfect time
as if animated by a cartoonist.

I too am sucked into it all -
the fantasy
as I lie sick in bed
fever of one hundred and two
drool draining on one side of my face
eyes repeatedly drawn to the next 30 second fix

and then I wonder...
dont people realize?
Its all a lie
carefully designed
to make you feel youre not up to par

aimed to send you racing from your home

to the nearest shopping mall
to voraciously consume

52
in an attempt to hide
your huge imperfections
before someone takes notice.

On what channel do watch to learn about
wisdom
humanity
peace?

No wonder I go out into the world
and encounter
face
after unconscious
face
and only on rare occasion
meet a pair of eyes with light behind them.

The rest are tuned-in, tuned-out, numb.
Misrouted onto a path of self-doubt
consumed by manufactured fears
and will die never knowing that its all a distraction

as communities are replaced by megaplexes
while we do irreparable damage to our precious planet
while billions go without food, shelter, and medicine
and CEOs play golf.

Where the guilty are never rehabilitated

but simply consumed by the system
and the president kills
innocent people everyday.

I dont propose to have the cure for these infirmities,
but if I watched MTV,
I wouldnt have to worry about it.

53
Winter Comfort
Elvin Duncan

Winter's fur coat's such a comfort

don't be caught without it
the nights are so long
sometimes they seem to start at dawn
if it's raining or the clouds say "no, no!"
those long nights might be of value
if it weren't for that little nip

So keep that fireplace going
marshmallows and bon vivant might be apropos
it's the time for story books and a cheery kitchen
maybe a bonfire or two
leaf burning
and snuggling with you
wrapped in our comforter
the dark skies hold all the stars
diadem eyes of a thousand black doves
winter wonderful

54
Worth
Misha Duncan

Into glass, a glance at your reflection

dim, subtle scars from wounds of self-critique,
dark, tired eyes, dressed in imperfection,
hardly the man you hoped that you would see.

Though beauty in the eyes of the beholder

the inquest of the worth of souls is done.
Value in the hands of the Creator
for God so loved the world He gave His Son.

Look back into the mirror and see your worth.

For you, a Holy Price, a Perfect Life
was giv'n to show, for you to reach your height
was worth it all in the Creator's sight.

His plan for us is more than we can see

the battle of our hope already won.
Though tainted glass and mind try to deceive,
our God sees us as who we can become.

Remember not that you are in His hands?

The Carpenter who mends all broken things.
And He will take the pieces of our lives
and form from them a perfect masterpiece.

Then what He asks of you and asks of me

was never meant for us to do alone
for as the cross He bore on Calvary
Hell lift us on His back and bring us Home.

55
With faith as shield, well bring the world this truth.
With love of God and all our fellowmen.
Our mouths the silver trump, His love the sound
that calls the sheep once lost to Him again.

When looking back youll see that change has come.

The man in your reflection different now.
He's new, strong, full of faith, a man of God
in wonder at the blessings pouring down.

What gratitude, our God believes in change;

our loving Father never you forsook.
The times when you were brought low to your knees,
the Master's hands were lovingly at work.

And so we will press forward in our goal

turning others from self's bleak mirror of lies
as Father sees the worth of all as gold
let's see each other too, with Heaven's eyes.

56
Presumption
Steven Duncan
The day I was delivered,
the doctor found an infection
boiling through my shrunken lungs.
It ravaged my fragile frame
scorched my skin,
marked me red as my mothers blood,
marked me for its own.
Some people die by fire;
I was born at the stake.

For ten days I incubated
a nestling trapped in the carnage
of tangled tubing and wire
a crude sort of nursery
for faulty fledglings
that will never fly.
A plastic box for babies
waiting to die.
Against the odds,
they hatched me from a hope.

I didnt wait nine months for nothing.

Growing up, I learned that life is easy
if you just follow the rules.
Speak your mind, but hold your tongue.
Save your money, dont be cheap,
be smart, but pretend you dont think you are.
Express your feelings,
Will you stop looking sad?
Tell the truth, keep that to yourself.
Stand out, blend in.
Be curious, woah, but not too many questions.
That would be presumptuous.
57
This icy advice washed through my mind
rattling like a cocktail shaker
into a brain
still far too young to drink.
Presumptuous.
Just then, I felt the plastic
press up against my heart again.

My mother always loved opals.
She said its because they can never decide
what color they really are.
And so all at once
theyre shimmering white, and glimmering gold,
and pink, and green, and blue.
Have you ever seen such beautiful indecision?
When the world seems too much of any one color,
my mother lends me her opal eyes
and I see true.

There are times when I wonder
who decided we must color inside the lines
when the wall makes such a beautiful canvas?

From birth, I was bred to behave,
be polite, manners, lower your voice,
my first words were an apology.

They said to aspire is arrogance.
You cant assume
the world will bend
when you push it.

58
We seed our children with low expectations
so they wont ever be disappointed.
Our cynicism is an injection
we vaccinate against rejection
inoculate from pain
but only end up immune to dreaming bigger.
Hospital incubators are not safe places,
they are cages, and Ive done my time.
IV dripping, veins filling
with be more realistic
ventilator pumping polite, polite,
its not bad to be polite,
but do we sacrifice too much
to protect what is only an image?
If the image is our own,
is that not a form of worship?

It hurts peoples eyes to shine
when theyve been kept in the dark.
The world needs an opalescent spark.

Think me presumptuous,
lay it on me like a winter coat -
its just another layer.
But do not tell me to stay put.
I was born with fire in my lungs,
dont think Ive forgotten.

59
We Shall Meet
George Washington Johnson

We shall meet, but we shall miss him;

there will be one vacant chair.
When we gather round the fireside,
we shall miss his presence there.

Just one year ago we gathered

at our dear old cottage home;
joy was beaming in his features,
and his eye with luster shone.

When we grasped the hand at parting,

tears in torrents downward fell,
and our hearts were filled with anguish
as we said our last farewell.

Now our little band is broken;

we are drifting with the tide,
and our dear old home forsaken.
We are scattered far and wide.

We shall meet, but many faces

may be absent from our band;
they are drifting from our circle.
They are scattered through the land.

And we hope once more to gather;

may each broken link be there,
but our hearts will swell with anguish
when we see the vacant chair.

60
You
Gary Duncan
Dark days when life's clouds rained sorrow
my eyes lifted to God for relief
I knew He in Whom I trusted
would answer my prayers of belief.

The windows of heaven opened
celestial light my hurt undo
divine Gift to humble servant
Heavenly Father sent me you.

From my heart so meek and tender
the teardrops fall like gentle rain
a lump in my throat makes it hard to say
thank you for healing my pain.

Words falter to express gratitude
I'll esteem you forever through
when with soft words and tears
you look in my eyes and say you.

In through the windows of your soul
I gaze deeply into your heart
there lives a beauty wonderful
a beauty sweet that you impart.

I tell you that you are lovely
my eternal love for you is true
you smile - I quiver helplessly
in love as you whisper, 'you'.

61
 Your face shines with love and virtue
spiritual perfection, you for me
I strive to be the man you deserve
that God must think I can be.

My desperate prayer, my hope of hopes
that always you may love me, too
I feel it so, your heart speaks to mine
whenever your lips say, 'you'.

I melt inside when you hug me
when you kiss me, with joy I cry
with gentle voice and soft caress
burns the flame of love in your eye.

I give my heart to you
all my eternal life through
you are my dream come true
my Dear Love, please say, 'you'!

62
To a Pal
Lyman Duncan

Its made life seem worthwhile

in some far away canyon deep
when you sang softly at twilight
by our glowing campfire embers.

Ive been happy, that when together
we climbed the mountain peak
and there watched the sunset flow
like my love for you;

But the one thing I treasure most
in this golden stream of life
is merely the fact you picked me out
to be a pal of yours.

63
On a Photograph
George Washington Johnson

I know it looks not as it did

when in her youthful prime;
she stood before the altar
and placed her hand in mine.
Bright was her eye and dark her hair
and smooth her youthful brow
to love each other evermore
we plighted there our vow.

Since then full many a year has passed

and brought both joy and care
and left their furrows on the brow
and frost upon the hair.
But what care I for frosty hair
or furrows on the brow?
The love I bore her on that day
is stronger, purer now.

64
Self-Pity
Misha Duncan, after Charles Bukowski

You are not ugly,

you are not useless,
you are not unloved.
Stop saying
you are.
Everyone has beauty,
whether inner
or outer.
We all have insecurities
but
the more you say you are it,
the more you convince yourself of it.
And then you become it.
Stop being down on
yourself
to get
others
to say youre
perfect.

65
Warning
Haley Duncan

They have something,

they need to be warned.
It keeps you awake,
it tears you asunder,
they need to be warned.

I had that something,
it cleaved me to my core,
wishing I had nothing,
when it broke me to the floor.
I have seen its crooked face,
standing at my back door.
Tossing petals at my feet,
incisors shining in the glow.

They have that something,
they need to be warned.

66
Oh, Friend
Brian Duncan

Oh, friend.
I like to watch the express train that traverses the mountain
passages formed by your thick curls of hair.

Im on board.

Oh, me.
--did you know that part of my brain lives in my throat, in my
Adams apple?

It makes it hard to talk sometimes.

A jumble of space falls like broken bricks between us,

an obstacle neither of us will ever lift a hand to clear.

Do you imagine holding my hand?

Wed be like two children in puffy jackets, pink and blue etchings
in frosted glass, guiding each other to school on a cold, cloudy day.

Wouldnt that be nice?

The space between us is hard, like a diamond.

One day, the pressure will be too great, and

space will suck inward--pull noisily together, shrink down to a

pinpoint
and crumple
--or will it sing?

67
Untitled
Gary Duncan

Theres a joy that cant be spoken

theres a peace that I cant say
a feeling so warm and tender
that flows through my soul today

From the moment that I saw you
I could feel your love deep inside
and my heart leaped to join yours
my inner child felt safe to confide

Once my heart lay torn and broken
were my cries for relief in vain?
God brought you forth out of secret
and you came and healed my pain

From the font of joy not sorrow
tears flow like rivers down my face
I thank God for your words I love you
and the healing balm of your embrace.

68
Campfire Embers
Lyman Duncan, abridged
They played by day
and sang by night
by a campfire bright.
Then by bugle call,
echoing on the lake,
they were off to slumber
the star-bright night away.

I loved those carefree nights
and the low glowing fire light
where eager faces looked on
sang softly some cowboy melody
and stilled to the tale
of a well spun yarn.
There was hope and love
and future humanity
around that fire.
When they were off to dreams
tucked snugly in bed,
and day was done,
I watched the glow
to the last lingering ember
and dreamed myself
to sleep.

Our beds were of pine boughs
our roofs the azure sky
huge spruce we had for walls
and mountain slopes our doorstep;
little wonder then
we played the livelong day?
69
Fish frying in the pan
biscuits in the old Dutch oven
taters stewing too,
and wild berries for dessert
for gorging appetites
it all tasted mighty good.

There were logs, rafts and canoes
along the little lake shore
peaks to be climbed
and trails to explore.
We tracked the fleet buck by day
and hear the night birds at dark

then it was time
to be off to school
but young hearts were yearning
for the day when youd be returning
to mountain stream and waterfall
and day is done their bugle call.

To this very day
when only years
have made me old
I remember too well
some of their tiny faces
and laughing, smiling ways.

70
July 24th, 1884
George Washington Johnson

This is the day we celebrate

in this our mountain home
for on this day the pioneers
unto these valleys come.

Just thirty-seven years, today,

our banner was unfurled
on ensign peak, our loyalty,
to show to all the world.

On each succeeding year this day

we have together met
in every place to celebrate
the birth of Deseret.

So may our children yet unborn

still celebrate with cheers
the entrance in these valleys
of the noble pioneers.

71
 (In the Fall)
Steven Duncan

The threat of winter took the form of snowflakes

tucked in the breeze. We cast our worries
at the green and yellowing trees
that spoke early fall. Bundled in burgundy,
our much loved russkaya sister smoothed her
weathered parka down the front,
her knotted fingers passing
over mottled fabric like a loom.
We took orders from her cheeks, chubby
with rosacea and the chill of morning.
All this wood needs chopping.
My forearms and shoulders laughed
until they cried.

72
The Moon and the Clouds
Elvin Duncan

The moon is playing hide and seek with the clouds

like we used to do on my street when we were kids
nobody around here does that anymore
their faces are glued to their screens
their fingers and thumbs pressing
and prodding buttons countless times

Id like to take you outside for a walk
and we could try and count the stars
or at least go for a ride
out away from the city and all the cars

I like all these new things
TVs, smart phones, and computers
but sometimes I miss the good old stuff
conversations, roller skates, and pickup games in the park
and having things you can actually hold in your hand
Id also like not having to bother with the new things all the time
like everybody seems to do
life cant all just be blips in the ether
or electrons that dance in a line

Meanwhile:
the full moon is playing hide n seek
with the evening clouds

73
Amazed with Wonder!
Joel Hills Johnson

Amazed with wonder! I look round

to see most people of our day,
reject the glorious gospel sound,
because the simple turn away.
Or does it prove there is no time,
because some watches will not go?
But does it prove there is no crime
because not punished here below?
Or can it prove no gems remain,
because some fools, throw theirs away?
Or can it prove no king can reign
because some subjects wont obey?
Or prove the gospel was not true
because old Paul the Saints could kill?
Because the Jews its author slew,
and now reject their Savior still?
Or prove that Christ was not the Lord
because that Peter cursed and swore?
Or Book of Mormon not his word
because denied, by Oliver?
Or prove, that Joseph Smith is false
because apostates say 'tis so?
Or prove that God, no man exalts
because from priests such doctrines flow?
O, no! the wise will surely say;
no proof unto the man thats wise,
then O! dig deep, ye wise today;
and soon the truth will be your prize.
Not like the fool who chancd to see,
the Saint forsake his heavenly course,
and turn to sin and vanity
then cries your scheme is all a farce.

74
Angels Camp
Elvin Duncan

Angels camp outside your window

how I envy them next to you
but they know me and I tread closer
till I'm left twain heart, a reckless fool

My spine aligns the Sierra Nevada
but the Madres - they point the way south
where hot air balloons fly down to Rio
and someday soon I'll go with you

And it all came to me in an instant
when your daisy kissed my shoulder
and left
its golden imprint there

75
Burning in the Rain
Elvin Duncan

A breeze riffles the pockets of the trees

they shudder, shake their heads
and stir, uneasily
those grey heads mock the skies
as the rain mocks their eyes
it's ineffective hiding there

The experts have been called in
that squalid squad of magnified eyes
hardly private
they direct the search
with noses pressed to the floor
ducks on the water never looked
so funny now

Then the solstice wields its axe
and truncates another season
to fall headfirst and reasonless
effortlessly
rusted on the roof of my . . .

Wait
I oxidize more rapidly
besides, I am not that
to only wonder till they bough out
or once more - unerringly
find that silver lining

76
Hymn 2
Joel Hills Johnson

Yes, in the gale that sweeps along,

and ev'ry opening flow'r
there is, O Lord, a whisp'ring song,
that tells thy love and pow'r.

The birds, too, in the opening spring,

in sweet melodious lays,
make all the fields and woodlands ring,
with anthems to thy praise.

Shall then the Saints, O God, alone,

be mute and not proclaim,
sweet anthems, too, in joyful tone,
of praise to thy great name?

We will our voices raise, O Lord,

and let sweet anthems flow,
to sound thy glory far abroad
in all the world below.

77
Freedom and Liberty
George Washington Johnson

Thank God there are true, noble men in the land,

by the old Constitution who firmly will stand;
brave chieftains of battle for freedom and right,
in the strife gainst oppression, who nobly will fight.

Fight on, valiant heroes! Thy names shall be spread

on our historys page with the heroes that bled
and fought for our liberty, freedom and right
when the dear Constitution was framed in its night.

Thy cause is a just one; the poor and oppressed

will remember the names of Brown, Morgan and Vest,
in the halls of our Congress, who feared not to face
the oppressor who dares the old flag to disgrace!

Then hurrah for the banner! Unfurl it on high!

Let it float on the breeze while we send up the cry
for freedom and liberty over the land,
while the old Constitution unsullied shall stand.

78
They're Throwing Fruit!
Brian Duncan

Theyre throwing fruit!

high arching
black shapes against a blinding skyfull of clouds
down they come
slam slam
bounce bounce
roll roll
onto the green grass
bright yellow bananas and red apples and nuclear oranges

79
Pest Control
Steven Duncan

You pinned me open

like a fly on a corkboard display:
a graphically honest expos.
People passed like pendulums
swinging clear
making wide, circular
hairpin apologies
for having seen me truly.
I watched their feet
scuffing at street dust,
slinking from the light.
I see them turn
with heavy iron eyes
as if reality
was insect repellant
buffered all around me,
and I cannot forgive you
enough.

80
Untitled
Gary Duncan

Once I spoke my words in sorrow

once I lived my life in pain
shattered dreams and distant hoped for
joy was gone and passion vain

Phoenix life was your present
gift of love wrapped in eternity
bridge the past and light the future
path from ashes reveal our destiny

With hammer of adversity
biting chisel of disdain
sculpted soul confused now receive
blessed reward thy love contain

Now the words I speak are thankful
now I rejoice in life each day
hopes and dreams became reality
through clouds shone sunshine's ray

81
Lessons of Life
Gary Duncan

Lessons of life
elusive to learn
some I avoid
for others I yearn.

Father in His wisdom
watch as I try
and withholds His hand
when falling I cry.

Higher Love than I can fathom
allows me to fall
greater Mercy than I deserve
allows me to rise when I call.

The love of my mother
gave Him me to understand
lift my eyes upward
see the light of His command

"As I have loved you
love one another"
for earthly best example
the love of my mother.

82
The Two Martyrs, Sent of God
Joel Hills Johnson

The two martyrs, sent of God,

to proclaim the truth abroad;
to restore the Gospel light,
to redeem the world from night;
the Millennial day bring in,
and release the world from sin.

The two martyrs, loved by me,
oh, that I again could see!
Oft with them I used to meet,
sat with them in counsel sweet;
heard them preach, and sing, and pray,
taught me, too, the heavnly way.

The two martyrs, I bewail,
massacred in Carthage jail,
by lawless mob though great
priests and officers of state
armed they came with swords and guns,
killed the Lords anointed ones.

The two martyrs, where are they?
From the alter hear, they pray
that the time they soon may see,
when their blood revenged shall be,
with the Saints arrayed in white,
see them shine in worlds of light.

83
In the Park
Steven Duncan

Theres something poetic about

the old man in the park
who carries birdseed in his thin
corduroy pocket
and gently
with a weatherworn hand
lets the golden grain slip freely
from a knuckled grip to
scatter beneath his
invisible smile.
But I cant quite
capture it.

84
After "Fire and Ice"
Misha Duncan, after Robert Frost

Some like vanilla for ice cream,

some strawberry.
From what Ive tasted of ice cream
Id say vanilla is supreme.
But if it makes you just merry,
I think it tastes yummy enough
to say ice cream thats strawberry
is real good stuff.
Luscious? Very.

85
Red Dutch Faery Tales
Elvin Duncan

You never met my grandmother

she lived in the beautiful badlands
safe underneath a sun-blistered rock
and the sand from the stones sifted into her veins there
would've caused a weaker woman pain
she only smiled and stared at the sky

It was all to teach me the glory of a mid-season heat blast
how the sculptured twisted stone glowed in the sun
and yielded patiently
revealing grain by grain
its life work
so stark and solid
somber and soft

86
Untitled
Haley Duncan

The lights are dimming,

but my soul is not thinning,
I know what I must to do keep my rhythm true.

There is a voice humming,
footsteps on the horizon drumming,
will my voice ring true,
when I finally call out for you?

A million times I have bitten my tongue,
until my skin has gone numb,
I wash my hands with a promise,
to not let my time fade to mist,
to remember my strength when I am fading,
and that happiness is not a card for trading.

Let this be a lesson to turn over,
twisting in my mind like a key,
until it clicks, the pins falling into place,
a sigh of relief,
a calm in the waves.

87
Paddle Your Own Canoe
George Washington Johnson

Now, boys, as I am growing old

and soon shall pass away,
Ill give to you this good advice
to help you on your way.
The lessons I have learned through life
I wish to teach to you,
that they may help you when you try
to paddle your own canoe.

In starting out in life, my boys,

let truth your motto be;
let virtue ever be your guide
and bear your company,
let haughtiness be cast away,
and pride and envy, too,
and lay hypocrisy aside,
and paddle your own canoe.

Let slander never pass your lips;

keep words of censure in.
Speak kindly to the erring for
you know not why they sin.
Far many a craft is wrecked and lost
when sunlight peeps not through;
your oft kind words will help you, son,
to paddle your own canoe.

88
Gain many friends, yet trust but few;
guard well the words you say,
for you will many a traitor find
in passing on your way.
When words are spoken carelessly,
they oft much mischief do;
speak kindly or speak not at all,
but paddle your own canoe.

Should you be called to give advice,

be careful what you teach;
let it not tend to gender strife
but practice what you preach.
Plain simple counsel, kindly given,
in chosen words, and few,
is better far than flattery,
but paddle your own canoe.

Perhaps youd say I did not heed

the lessons I have taught;
tis very true and many times
they dearly have been bought.
Tis what experience has taught;
much good twill bring to you,
if you will profit by my words,
and paddle your own canoe.

89
Sad Whale Song
Brian Duncan

Summers almost gone,

and youve moved on,
but the song of your leaving is long in landing, so

until it touches down, I know that one day

well stroll together
underneath the beaches,
in our crystal world

where the suns as dim as the moon,
and the stars are shards of ice,
and umbrellas curl up like cups of wine,
and youll be mine.

90
Dinah Marue
Lyman Duncan

Now Dinah Marue of Timbuktu

was a two-gun gal of a shootin crew,
the notches on her gun of the things she had done
would make your blood run cold in the noonday sun;

But one day Dinah fell, deeper than a well
in love with a gambler named Blacky McSwell.
Blacky to her said, Let us be wed
and Ill be done with the gamblers life Ive led.
When he kissed her, this gambling mister,
Im yours, he hears her softly whisper.

They were wedded in June under the light of the moon.
'Til death do you part was said to the bride and the groom.
They lived for many a day
happy in their wedded way
until Dinah Marue chanced to hear her husband say:
Ive tamed her now, my gun-totin frau.

It was then he knew that Dinah Marue
had a trigger that was quick and was true
for she filled him full of lead until he was dead.
And his spirit to Hades had sped.

So now Dinah Marue from Timbuktu
has a slug of lead for those who come to wed.
Id rather, she said, spend my life
amakin notches with my knife
for gamblers who would woo me for their wife.

91
Spilling Heaven
Steven Duncan

I poured the sky into a teacup

and stirred with the little dipper.
The clouds, like cream,
swirled and slowly disappeared,
and the mixture glowed celestial.
And of course, tripping,
I spilled it all onto the earth.
But most folks need
a little more sky
anyway.

92
Kiki and Bouba
Brian Duncan
Image by Andrew Dunn, CC Attribution-ShareAlike (covered under fair use)

Bouba draws us near to her. For each of us, standing on the
plush carpet of the factory floor, Bouba is many things. She is soft edged
and warm, like a hot water bottle. She is both yielding and firm, like a
hotel pillow. Every morning she calls to us and we gather under the
folds of her cape, then Bouba sings to us in bell-like tones.
Bouba is soft like the fragrant, mossy hills of earth. When we
close our eyes, we roll and sway on the gentle swells of her voice; were
carried along harmonic currents to warm, shifting places.
We have worked under Boubas guidance for many years, and
yet it has never felt like work. She hums tirelessly as we craft creatures
both fantastical and realistic in her factory, each hand-stitched with
care. We never hurry in our labor. Each charming creature we create is
given eyes that appear intelligent and alive, and each is stamped with
love from the makers hand, a love which originates in and flows
through us from Bouba.
This good morning, as on many others, she calls to us and we
gather under the velvet folds of her cape. However, today, as we huddle
and warm under its quivering edges, we sense something different in
Bouba, and it makes us uneasy. It is hard to grasp. We try to grasp it. It
slips. We try again, and recognize a dropping of dominoes, a collapsing
of inner pillars. The sensation is frightful and abrupt: a disjoint
fragment of a cut scene brought to a cold stop.
We look to Bouba for comfort but
her balloon body bursts and we are flung far from her, hitting
the hard, corrugated metal of the factory floor. From where we lay
dazed and chopped and confused we can see now that where the
softness of Bouba once was there now menaces a new sharp being: a
tall, radiant ball of spikes, a sentient static sunburst. Each glinting point
of it sputters and sparks.
93
 A mouth at the center of this malevolence shrieks: Kiki! Her
needles extend and threaten us, and
we are back to work; the machines clank and sputter and cough.
The conveyer belts wobble and squeak: kiki, kiki, kiki. The cotton we
use to stuff the toys is now stiff, yellowed and full of weevils. The
cotton we use to stuff the toys is now clumps of bathroom hair, dirty
nickels and pennies; it teems with lice and shredded diatoms.
The speed at which we must now sew causes us to prick our
fingers. Drops of blood stain our creations, smear the edges of their
crooked lips and mismatched eyes, eyes which now stare up as us with
expressions deranged and lustful with hatred for their makers.
At the end of the day, Kiki will not let us sleep, nor will she let
us sing. As we stand and sway in fatigue and pain, each new jab of Kikis
spikes extracts our soft-bodied memories, electrocutes them, dissolves
our dreams into an ozone smoke. There never was a Bouba. As we
forget what the past holds for us and force our eyes to see reality, our
only lullaby is Kikis paroxysmal, staccato screech.

94
Sunup on the River
Lyman Duncan

Up the river it came

dancing with the ripples;
glowing
like scattered fire brands.
Then I saw its opened,
red mouth flaring, billowing
and frightened fire leaped forth.

In the calm heavens
that innocently looked on
I saw the blue smoke screen
erased,
saw scattered cardinal feathers
wafted like dreams
from peaceful slumber
as sunup rushed in.

95
Room to Grow
Nicole Wilson

There is so much that I dont know

and I have so much room to grow
but I
I want to grow with you

I have battled and been unseen

and Ive broken everything
but I
I want to heal with you

Build a life with me

Ill hold your tender heart

theres no one you must be:
other than who you are

Just a fraction of what could be

so much beauty left to see
and I Ill see the world with you

Build a life with me

I take you as you are

sweet possibility
to share a life of the heart
just one life

96
In the Summertime
Elvin Duncan

In the Summertime
if you just wink an eye
you can go from
dusk till dawn
at least it seems that way
the nighttime grows too short
but still you live for it
and just for it

And though you may revel
through another day
it's just to make it there
for one more chance
yeah, and you'll take a little chance
for romance

'Cause romance is a flower
that blooms best at night
and in the heat
and don't you know it?
And can't you feel it?
In the Summertime

97
The Joy and the Song
Julia Hills

We praise Thee, O God, for the joy and the song

which unto us this beautiful season belong;
we love and adore Thee, for light and for love,
and for all the rich blessings that come from above.

The gates are wide open, and they beckon us all,
each to follow and serve at the sound of Thy call;
thru portals of praise and thru Zions fair gates,
we will pass in with songs to the work that awaits.

At last in that city, with its glories untold,
with its gates all of pearl and its streets of pure gold,
well give to the Savior, who dwelleth in Might
all the power and dominion and wisdom and light.

Chorus: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! O the joy and the song!
With happy hearts and merry voices we the glad strains prolong.

98
A Dream of Home
George Washington Johnson

I dreamed I was a boy again,

and on my mothers knee;
I listened to the fervent prayer
she offered up for me.
Again, I saw my childhood home
the place that gave me birth,
and friends and kindred grouped around
the old familiar hearth.
The Bible lay upon the stand,
just as it used to do
when I was in my childhood home
just fifty years ago.

The old Dutch clock hung on the wall;

the cupboard, too, was there,
the pictures on the mantelpiece,
and Mothers old armchair.
Again, I wandered through the wood
where oft in childhoods hours,
I sauntered forth to gather nuts
or cull the fragrant flowers.
I rambled oer the meadow, too,
where berries used to grow,
twas just the same as when a boy
just fifty years ago.

99
 The orchard, too, where oft Ive sat
and watched the busy bee,
was just the samethe bees were there
as they were wont to be.
The barn, the corn house, and the spring
where oft, in summers day,
Ive knelt beside to get a drink
when tired of boyish play,
the Gulf-lot, where I drove the cows,
as I to school did go,
to learn to read, and write, and spell
just fifty years ago.

Ah me! That was a happy dream

my dream of childhoods hours,
when all the thorns of life had gone,
and left the brightest flowers.
But those bright days will no more come
while I on earth remain;
my childhoods home, my early friends,
I neer shall see again.
A few more days of toil and strife,
and Ill be called, to go
to join the friends I loved so well
just fifty years ago!

100
Tallinn
Steven Duncan

The barracks were empty,

the church a cavern.
I somehow sensed

before I knew
the energy of those red roofs
flowing like urban tides,

spires of a citadel
like raven feathers
raising a sky offering.

I climbed spiral turrets,
tucked my face
into each step

and gripped the rope run
smooth by other travelers.
The exit was an entrance.

Id never seen the day
flood a city
with such appetite.

Light combined homes and streets,
summoned a realm far
older than bedrock beneath.

Theres no way to prove it, but
my ledge held
the warmest view.

101
Hymn 186
Joel Hills Johnson

Father, source of joy and pleasure,

cause our anxious fears to cease;
may thy blessing, without measure,
fill our hearts with joy and peace.

Ever, Lord, may we be prayerful;

each to each may we fulfil
ev'ry duty, and be careful
to perform thy holy will.

May our peace be like a river,

flowing onward evermore;
and thy love to us, forever,
like an ocean without shore.

102
The Old Kirtland Temple
George Washington Johnson

Thou, grand old pile! Thy fame is spread

from land to land and sea to sea;
where eer the Gospel light is shed,
the Saints have read or heard of thee.

How oft in childhoods happy hours,

ere thy foundation stone was laid,
where thou art reared with dome and tower,
upon that very spot Ive played.

Jehovah spake! The work began,

and soon thy tower on high was reared;
there God again communed with man;
there we have oft His name revered.

How oft within thy walls weve heard

the meek and lowly Prophets voice;
and as we listened to his words,
o how it made our hearts rejoice.

How oft beneath thy roof weve met

to serve the Lord in praise and prayer;
and as we worshipped at His feet,
how oft weve felt His presence there.

But strangers pass thy portals now,

but oft my thoughts will wander there
to where the Prophet oft did bow
beneath thy roof in humble prayer.

103
Crosswalks
Brian Duncan

I.
Fathers confident step, forearms that swing in little military motions
while the upper arms hardly move at all
khaki baseball cap, shades and stubble
a resting smile strutting above streamlined jogging pants
behind, the mother follows, sweating in the sun, stooping over a
stroller, pushing it like a millstone

III.
Teal shorts, dentist-white shirt
gray scarf light as meringue
white tennis shoes
tanned, shining legs
Clark Kent stubble, chestnut pony hair
looks rich
looks healthy
looks happy
nice phone
nice smile

V.
James Brown sighs and screams
the hinge on the door squeaks
a tambourine hits a palm, is reproduced through electromechanical
means

the rumble and swoosh of cars pass by an open window
steps of passers-by are seen but not heard

104
She--
bright red cap against a crowd of muted colors
--why must she stand out?
--what does standing out mean?
To be a brilliant red poppy in the dead grass
or an open wound on an otherwise spotless body

VII.
His face is already red
his posture stooped forward
reminding us that jogging is really a constant
falling and catching oneself
his mouth is too open
his eyes squint in the sun
focused inward, one can hear his thoughts
a stream of self-assurances, of keep doingits and go-ons and bravos
and greats and youcans and youwills
remember how great this will feel
remember how much energy you will have
his speed speaks to a desire he has not yet achieved
an overreaching of ability
fools no one
impresses no one
hes too tired to feel impressed himself
he will go too far and soon, when he sees the
woman who lives on his block,
the one he says hi to when they pass on the stairs
jogging the other way,
he will take the step that he wont be able to
catch
and fall into the sidewalk
and become concrete

105
Heart and Hearth
Elvin Duncan

The damper is down

unrolled yards of dirty grey ticking
dripping its displeasure
on the Earth's sloppy grin

Moody? Oh, you bet!
Clenched teeth and listlessness
winding out the weather
first season's storm feels like a sin

And it's a bad one
and it's a strangler
and its head lolls in the miasma
fashionably tragic

As the Earth throws off
its overcoat of dust
man pulls on his -
only holding at bay
that fortifying elixir
yet, oh, how that sweet liquid can ruin!
Throw another log on the fire

106
A Dime
Lyman Duncan

Say, pard, pause awhile

and tell me if you know
what is this thing called a dime
that they talk about
and everyone desires so much.
Is it some strange lost jewel,
or is it only for kings to view?
Will a common ever chance to see
or ever chance to have?
Neither neighbor John,
nor neighbor Jake have ever seen;
so, Im inclined to believe
its something that isnt at all.

107
Time is Fleeting
George Washington Johnson

Time is precious; use it wisely,

idle not the hours away;
years are made of little moments,
grasp, and use them while you may.

Time is fleeting; every moment

let some noble deed be done.
When tis past, tis gone forever,
years are passing, one by one.

Every moment there is something

that your hands may find to do,
that will lighten someones burden,
and a blessing bring to you.

There are always those around you

who may need your help or care,
sinking hearts are always near you,
and the poor are everywhere.

Feed the hungry, clothe the needy,

pleasure to the poor impart;
gentle words that cost you nothing
oft times raise the sinking heart.

Never falter in well doing,

labor with your hands and brain;
kind words spoken to the erring
sometimes bring them back again.

108
When the years of life are numbered,
and your sun is nearly set,
leave no stains in life behind you
that may cause you sad regret.

Let your life be spent in doing

good to all, and harm to none,
so you calmly may resign it
knowing all has been well done.

109
Ye Old South Sea
Lyman Duncan

Friendly little waves that run up to greet you and

then break against the rocks to be lost forever.
Quiet little ripples that catch and hold the last
pink glow of the sun while sails stand lonely between
falling night and a day that is tired and gently
subdued.

Deep cobalt blue breaks into marble white waves,
thin in the early morning while we are creeping
shoreward. The waters are delicate green like weeping
willows of new spring. Yes, I fell in love with the
beauty of the ocean but more than her beauty I could
not love.

In a fit of anger she storms and bolts and threatens
to dash you to pieces. Not being able to subdue you
that way she may lure you into the confines of her
boudoir and there, black wench that she can be, loose
the devil fish, the sharks, the barracuda or the octopus
in order to seduce you.

Give me the bosom of the mountain or the throne stop
a canyon crag where desert and canyon meet there
let me see the hoary peaks rise to meet the morning
sun or let me listen to the desert go singing into the
faraway night. There let me dream of distant strands
where ocean waves rise and fall or mingle with the
sands of a palm thatched cove.

110
Muscle Memory
Steven Duncan

My shoes collect
dust, but not
for want of wear.

These canyon reds
know me by name,
call out in the summer

for companionship
and I answer
with heated breath.

These trails resound like an echo
Ive heard before, racing
through the valleys rift.

Mountains pool
like loosely folded linens
and lift me

to a virgin vantage.
I pour a secret
into the azure lake below,

and nightfall
promises to keep it.
These stone striations

111
 guide the bracing river
as it bends
to the horizon

and I follow
never lost,
always returning.

112
 Concrete Poem
Misha Duncan

Walk down the
hallway, glance right and left. Everyones
eyes are judging without thinking twice.
Someone youve never said a word to has an opinion
about you. The importance of nicely combed hair or the shape
of a nose in the eyes of onlookers is astounding. But those
things shouldnt matter. A kind person, one who
opens a door for someone, helps out a friend,
comforts someone lost, is beautiful
in my eyes.

113
Hymn 283
Joel Hills Johnson

There's not a star in yonder sky,

nor planet glowing there,
but God, the Father, from on high,
in goodness placed it there.

There's not a cloud, whose misty rain

descends upon the earth,
to clothe with verdure hill and plain,
but God hath sent it forth.

There's not a place in any sphere,

in ocean, earth or air,
but what His wisdom doth appear,
in all its glory there.

Above, below, on ev'ry side,

in all the rounds of space,
His power and goodness far and wide,
is seen in ev'ry place.

114
Joining the Firmament
Lyman Duncan, arranged by Steven Duncan

cento
/sent/ noun
a literary work made up of quotations from other works.

The bomber's moon

scattered fire brands
over fields of turquoise.
Swallow songs surrendered
in the depth of night,
took tamarack for walls.
As clouds of corded wool
marked the snow's advance,
the moon came down the aisle:
a June bride,
no more the echo
of a hushed world,
not too beautiful to stay.
The stars were dressed
like a happy groom,
clothed in silver turbans
and paling yellow crowns.
Hills moved about in their robes
And held the night close.
Then upward passed my lantern light
its beauty pinned to blue.

115