© Elisa Lazo de Valdez/Corbis
DRUMS
Deep under this lake
there remains some vibration
of green and sky,
some summer of childhood
long lost.
I come here often,
slipping from my thin white tubes,
my stained sheets and straps,
the still minute
that inches toward me.
The water is calm and flat.
It knows me well. The
short circuit of my brain
matches the echo
beneath the surface.
Beneath
this face
beneath the reflected trees
and mocking blue salvation
that stretches so far away
I sense the shape of things
stirring in their sleep.
The shadows are
gathering sticks.
I slip through
and down
and
there is music
in this descent,
deep earth water
rhythm.
Boston, 1989
4 Comments
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Wow you sure wrote a lot in 1989. I really like this one. I particularly like the image of
the shadows are
gathering sticks.
and
the sound of
there is music
in this descent
deep earth water
rhythm
will we ever get anything current or is poetry a thing of the past?
Wow! Thank you. At this point poetry is pretty much a thing of the past. HOWEVER, I’ve enjoyed unfurling these long-unread poems and tooling around with the accompanying artwork. I’m entertaining the idea of starting a sister site (called FIRES OF VENUS, why not) that would be devoted exclusively to poetry. I’ll make an official announcement at the end of April. If there is sufficient interest —say, a minimum of ten readers— I’ll do it. Though I won’t be able maintain a poem-a-day schedule!
I’m sufficiently interested to inject my 2 cents worth and say “Do it!”
Really enjoying the poetry.
Thanks. Still haven’t made up my mind yet…