National Poetry Month April 2013

National Poetry Month April 2013

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Wahh! I unwisely decided to change colors and lost all my links- I don't have time to restore right now- later this afternoon- sorry-

I been going through some old work to rethink what I meant to say (or perhaps I can't remember what I meant but can only rewash the poem and try a new thought)

anyway- because the old one was really self-indulgent and terrible, I will put the new one first- then the old one.

Equilibrists redux (with regards to John Crowe Ransom)

Safely distant, held aloft
by unbreakable laws, bent,
bound as sure as stone remains
he is not hers, nor her, his.

Yet they endure apart, still
water wears them down, and he,
struck blind in moon-made shadow
tips his heart, then eats his hat.

Dance, lovers, move into day,
take what can never be held
in a hand with no life line
aside: it may be too late.

She invokes invisible,
cries inside her empty car,
there is no wedge between them,
her breath retires, then forgets.

To take air in again, love
perilous and beautiful,
the body will align itself,
eyes close, tongue recite, repair.

**********************************

now- it may not seem very close, in fact, not at all- but here is the original
(from 1997)

Under the Influence

Like Eponine I would die
in your arms make you say
you had loved me
lie with me in final misunderstanding
safely pretending
there was a kind of substance

I cannot think for your breath
lingering in the wake of you
I would sooner die for some cause
than try to piece fortune
into weak accomplishment
without you

It has been long enough
I should be beyond your influence
out of your circle still searching
there is no place left to look
revelation came from you

I am your satellite
always close never touching
held here reflecting wonder
the laws are unbending
bound as surely as stone is eternal
I am here and will not be moved
from this path I did not choose
anymore than the moon chose this planet.

1 comment:

Terre said...

They really ARE like two different poems - and, by the way, I loved the old one. I could "feel" it. I enjoy your work. Hope your holiday was good....now on to the Christmas madness.

Terre