A poem of praise about a thing of the earth. A poem that builds beauty out of the wildness of words that are ours.
Pale brown peanut:
Ah, true!
White veins of rivers
mold you in a shape
obscure, odd as earth
how it holds two hands together!
Your sheen is the oiled skin
of a brown man, working.
Your dust, of powdercake dirt;
light within your opaque globe
retains rain in a bloom,
waterfalls and leaves,
the corky gourd of a tree.
Truly, Who finds you
has entered the ball of the Beautiful,
Who stays here, the whole,
one seed of the world.
Published in Mirare, 1995
Take it away.
We look at poems that work and consider what's doing the lifting. Formal, experimental, lyric, narrative. Mostly contemporary. Scroll down. ⬇⬇⬇
Sunday, March 29, 2015
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