TSM 156

Narrator:    qbit, yours truly, marking his morning rounds of the salt marsh
Chorus:      A pair of steel-rimmed spectacles



Lightning cracks one hundred years of sky –
The faraway docks of Gothenburg 
		                                                   are made of stone, made of stone
                                                                  its boats are moored to iron rings
	
So lightning goes to ground
		                                                          comes around, comes around
                                                                     and ground returns to lightning
	
Finally then at sea, mornings
among the deck hands calling 
		                                                        back and forth, back and forth
	
Gulls suspended off the bow where you stood,
fly neither forward nor back,
		                                       waves are waves are waves are waves
	
A century's wind holding them in place –
over the harbor I watch them marking time
		                                    neither sky nor water have that answer

I turn from the ocean to a path of hard bounty –
stone and sand held out to you,
simple dirt floor of the world
		                                                this was known, this was known
	
Poems in your journal untranslatable, yet 
I carry them with me still,
and mine, a stranger has put to wind 
of foreign tongues
		          Iceland come, Croatia come, Kurdistan come, and on
		            to the East, to the West, North wind, the Southerlies

Heirloom flowers that grow from gristle and tendon
		                                                 blow like seeds, blow like seeds
                                                                                  from across the ocean

Could you have known then,
Could you have known

one day my hands 
would be so cold?

The Sunday Muse

30 thoughts on “TSM 156

    1. Thanks so much! No, I have held off from using pictures, just wrestling with WP block brain damage most of the time. I’ve experimented with just about everything. This is a verse block that I hand spaced. If my layouts get any more complicated though, I will have no choice.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Mic drop, WOW! This reminds me of a poem by my man, Grover Lewis, called “I Walk Out On The Wounded Fields”, which alternates between a rather beautiful and elegantly written “verse” and an in-your-face, profane and manic “perverse.” Yours does not do that, it’s smooth throughout, but has the same call and response feel to it, and reminds me of the “verse” section I mentioned. I can’t even tell you how much love this.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you! BTW, a contrasting tone could be a really good idea. I get a bit Wagnerian after I’ve huffed too many of my own lines, might be interesting to leaven the kool-aid (that works as a mixed metaphor, right?). After searching around a bit, would that poem be in “Splendor in the Short Grass” which seems like the only anthology of his work available?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Pressing business first. This, from Joy (Hedgewitch):

        WordPress won’t let me in to post on qbit’s blog and I am too blahed out to hassle with it. It was an excellent piece, tho, and I loved the hypnotic repetition and faint hint of rhyme. Very subtle and moody. Let him know I really enjoyed his poem if you get a chance.

        Now then re: Grover Lewis. The poem is in the out of print “I’ll Be There In The Morning If I Live.” It is still available on eBay, but pricey. “Spendor” is, I think, a collection from all his writings; the poem I mentioned may or may not be in there. If you give me your email (the one Carrie shared doesn’t work), I will copy it down for you.

        Liked by 2 people

        1. Pressing business above all else: Please tell Joy thanks so much, and how much i miss her poems.

          Re Lewis, I found a used copy of “I’ll Be There in the Morning” for not too much, on order. My email, hmmm… Can you try hitting me on my “About” page, and let’s see if your email comes through to me then I can respond, blah blah. Will revert to just posting it here if that doesn’t work!

          Like

  2. There is a unique weird in all of us that write. You have traveled through it brilliantly. I love the chorus. It feels like waves splashing against a shore that changes as the sea pulls back to its heart.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. A chant quality about his whole thing; feels like there should be drums and seed shakers. I really like the summoning of the directions, the specificity of it. Very aural.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Drums and shakers would be cool. In fact, the reeds (still very dry) were rattling in the wind in a way that sounded like high-voltage lines. That would have been good to work in.

      Like

  4. WordPress and Blogger seem determined to snuff our visual creativity in presenting our poems. I see you managed this the “hard way”, which is necessary on Blogger as well! Great poem!

    Liked by 2 people

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