Friday, November 27, 2009

Lie of the Land


Our luck,

stopped among

the carobs and pines.

Needles. The beckoning stone
hut sunk
in whitewash, inside
the heart lines creasing

familiar land.


Coming out

now, the close lie

of the gulf

for a thousand miles
between us,

the hard truth hurting,
absolute light.

(First published in a somewhat different version in Sentences, 1976)


  1. Lovely. In the white space on Page 39, I imagine these words, written in your hand. Under them, your name. Behind them, a crooked map of years.

  2. Thanks, William--

    Now, tell me why I was certain you would go to page 39 to see what changes had occurred to the land after 34 years?


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...