Corbin Buff Verse-Virtual 2016 November

November 2016

I study English at Reed College in Portland, Oregon, where I hope some of Gary Snyder's ability may still abide and rub off upon me. I greatly enjoy birds, fish, trees, breakfast food, and upbeat bluegrass music. Work of mine has snuck it's way into Bird's Thumb, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, and Big River Poetry Review, where it won the Poem of the Month Award.

Yellowstone

In the mountains he found that Mind
the mystics talked of: clear as a cool pond,
untouched even by the wind. Spotless and gleaming
like metal freshly polished, it had shed, finally,
all the rust of man’s havoc, his thousand-fold illusions.

Trees bent at his word; water and stone
leapt like birds. In him there rose a soft song,
long forgotten, and while he sang, no darkness
could come near, no cold could bloom
on the blooming wind.

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