Gary H. Howard

Where One May Ask



No one can predict

What tigers may emerge

From that last refuge

We bade farewell to


Knowing that if

All roads were to close

Only our minds

Would remember

What drawer contained the key


And trees that we saw last

In dreams   would they know

When to acknowledge survival

And the presence of green gods


There may be hope yet

Crossing frantic

From one side to the next


But I half-memorized

What answers I could save

Offering up only feeble gestures



And the knowledge

That what I saw now

Was as real

As a lost blade

Of grass


Someone had


Forgotten to cut