In The Woods Trees Multiply With Shadows
Once I loved a man
Who said his only desire was to paint light.
I told him the rivers were red
Death comes to us
on the back of crows.
There’s no beauty in the way we fall.
He took his canvas to the street.
Love is a glass darkly.
or a darkly covered glass.
A hand held over the rim.
Hear that sound?
It makes no difference.
What you believe.
Light still falls. Name absence shadow.
Name the shadow man.
All the boys with brushes will hear you.
They’ll take to the trees.
Who said his only desire was to paint light.
I told him the rivers were red
Death comes to us
on the back of crows.
There’s no beauty in the way we fall.
He took his canvas to the street.
Love is a glass darkly.
or a darkly covered glass.
A hand held over the rim.
Hear that sound?
It makes no difference.
What you believe.
Light still falls. Name absence shadow.
Name the shadow man.
All the boys with brushes will hear you.
They’ll take to the trees.
posted by early hours of sky at 8:41 PM
2 Comments:
I feel like I'm in a church or a library when I come here. It's so....quiet. I feel like this place is my secret. Maybe others know about it but I don't care. It's mine. (smile)
This poem is sublime. Is it in the manuscript that will surely win you the $4k?
It seems to me that writing like this will get you that book you want, Ms. Early. Surely, it will.
This poem makes me feel the way I felt the first time I can recall reading one of your poems. I felt as though I'd stumbled upon something holy in the natural world, a small round moon-colored stone that I wanted to take with me but didn't because it was not mine to own. So I took the memory of how it felt in my hand, cool and smooth and magical, with me instead.
Truly, this is good poetry.
I won't wax so fawningly but will say I've read here and love your work.
best
ginger~
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