in a way that beats time!
Cobble them with pictures
to puncture holes inside homes
where the soul hides;
circumscribe the abstract thought
with a heavy green one
and somehow don't write
about fields or trees or for
Christ's sake
or a nightingale--
that one's done.
Keats did it well enough,
you should leave well enough alone.
But fields and trees are fixed--
silent silos of eternity,
and will feel when thought
is not enough--
when I first walked with Roethke
through his
fields I fell
and ripped open my knees,
but my eyes,
the things they saw
as I lost myself
in that living green--
All of this is a mystery.
Oi Nate, eu não sei quem é você, e não te conheço, mas te encontrei e achei legal sua foto, e com o pouco de ingles que eu sei. gostei bastante das suas poesias, e estranho isto, mas tudo bem.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Radhis! I won't try and reply in Portuguese, but thanks for stopping by!
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