Thursday, September 17, 2009

The Poet as Archaeologist


This man smiles at the coming of autumn,
The silence of cicadas makes him laugh;
even the wind-scatter of leaves pleases him.

Tired of digging in, he is digging out
from under the ruins of his measured words,
while his ancestors, having escaped him,

turn round and smile at the distance between.

(from Sentences, 1976)


3 comments:

  1. THE DISTANCE UNCOVERED


    My friend,

    After thanking you
    Humbly, this novice beseeches you

    To answer: How far is it
    Between a master at work

    And the work of a master?

    ReplyDelete
  2. From here to the asylum door. A shame we don’t have the key!

    ReplyDelete

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