The Yurt, by Charles Carreonthe yurt is round
(when I built it three years ago
my fellows in the grocery store
took this as final proof of what
they'd suspected all along, i.e.
terminal weirdness)
at any rate it is round, a round
latticework of two-by two's number
one select fir, free of knots
-- rough pine siding and plain old
composition roofing
in the center of the cone shaped ceiling
there's a domed skylight; the whole
house is like an eye and the sun
is always peering in
In the morning in winter it rises, shining
just above the kitchen counter, an ellipse
of light on the blue fabric of the wall
At around ten it shines on the breakfast
table, while dishes get picked up and the
second cup of coffee gets cold
Around noon there's a circle of light on
the floor in front of the trapezoidal-shaped
front door our friends and we all hate
(Matthew calls it the ankle buster, and
it is) and so the sundial gives us a con-
stant reading on the day till at last the
light slides up the roofbeam toward the
sunset, probably behind some clouds
appendix a: things you might find
outside the yurt
Peach pits
Old nails, half embedded in mud
fragments of white plastic spoons
remains of a rodent waylaid by cats
the cats -- Mellow Yellow, a friendly
fellow whose mild manner belies his
skill as a successful carnivore, and
Grey Cat, a self-satisfied shorthair
who avoids human company
An oak chopping block with the bark
still on it
A very small woodpile with a gimcracky
rain-cover made of scraps and those
thin, aluminum offset plates the Tidings
sells for thirty cents
A fifty gallon tank of water (lasts four
days)
A bunch of sunflower heads hung up in
burlap on the end of a roof beam
Whatever the wind blew out from under
the house
Coffee grounds coming out of the drain
A little comfrey plant