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LOBO by William Childress The winter I turned sixteen, Wolves dropped down from the Wichita hills And slaughtered cattle for miles around. I heard of the great three-toed Lobo Who had left tracks in the snowy ground Of Beaver Creek, near one of his kills. No one had ever seen him. His tracks Alone convinced the superstitious That he was not a ghost. Farmers cursed Their ill-fortune and the grey wolfpacks, And set traps to no avail. When Spring Arrived, I left home, feeling nothing. Whatever hold the red dirt hills had Was broken. I could not feel where there Was nothing to be felt. I had known The family cave too long, I could Not stay. There were things to be seen, To be killed, eaten, and not shared. YOU WILL KNOW THEM by Ollie Simpson Look to the orchard tree's, they said, Any autumn day will show Bad fruit cannot come from good. With such a guide you'd think I'd know How to proceed in building friendships, And yet I've misjudged everyone. And if I had been Isaac's neighbor I would have hunted with his son Only to learn that evilness Was Esau's mark, that one goat skin Fitted to Jacob's smoother skin Was all he needed to assume A blessing that would part the two, Nourished and born from the same good womb. 110
Yearbook Title | 1963 Campus |
Date Published | 1963 |
Organization | Issued by Associated Students of Fresno State Normal School, June 1912-1921; Associated Students of State Teachers and Junior College of Fresno, June 1921; Associated Students of Fresno State College, 1922-1971; Alumni Association of California State University, Fresno, 1976-1991. |
Location | Fresno, CA |
Rights | Published by Fresno State College, Fresno, California, 1963. |
Yearbook Title | 1963 Campus |
Date Published | 1963 |
Organization | Issued by Associated Students of Fresno State Normal School, June 1912-1921; Associated Students of State Teachers and Junior College of Fresno, June 1921; Associated Students of Fresno State College, 1922-1971; Alumni Association of California State University, Fresno, 1976-1991. |
Location | Fresno, CA |
Transcript | LOBO by William Childress The winter I turned sixteen, Wolves dropped down from the Wichita hills And slaughtered cattle for miles around. I heard of the great three-toed Lobo Who had left tracks in the snowy ground Of Beaver Creek, near one of his kills. No one had ever seen him. His tracks Alone convinced the superstitious That he was not a ghost. Farmers cursed Their ill-fortune and the grey wolfpacks, And set traps to no avail. When Spring Arrived, I left home, feeling nothing. Whatever hold the red dirt hills had Was broken. I could not feel where there Was nothing to be felt. I had known The family cave too long, I could Not stay. There were things to be seen, To be killed, eaten, and not shared. YOU WILL KNOW THEM by Ollie Simpson Look to the orchard tree's, they said, Any autumn day will show Bad fruit cannot come from good. With such a guide you'd think I'd know How to proceed in building friendships, And yet I've misjudged everyone. And if I had been Isaac's neighbor I would have hunted with his son Only to learn that evilness Was Esau's mark, that one goat skin Fitted to Jacob's smoother skin Was all he needed to assume A blessing that would part the two, Nourished and born from the same good womb. 110 |
Rights | Published by Fresno State College, Fresno, California, 1963. |
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