We Four In the 1950s
Was this at Chautauqua ?
*
I thought growing up would be
this rising from everything
old and earthly,
not these faltering steps out the door
every day, then back again.
~ Catherine Anderson, “Before Sleep” —
*
Untitled [Into the land of youth]
by Killarney Clary
Into the land of youth, westward, to the place of starting again, cities of gold, on the coast of promise--mysterious cure--a mirror's thrown down, and so without luck, without reflection we stop.
We have come to the beginning, the finish of the country, itinerary worn out, facing the surf--what sailors smell as land. We ask detailed questions. None of us can tell, so we tug on each other, "Come. Look."
In this lull, one at the tide line stoops to pick at foam and weeds; another builds a fire. The intended didn't arrive and there is no new plan. As the sun lowers, we face the mountains, consider what we have passed, and fall to dreaming, to scrounging.
- See more at: www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16578#sthash.MsZzX2GC....
We Four In the 1950s
Was this at Chautauqua ?
*
I thought growing up would be
this rising from everything
old and earthly,
not these faltering steps out the door
every day, then back again.
~ Catherine Anderson, “Before Sleep” —
*
Untitled [Into the land of youth]
by Killarney Clary
Into the land of youth, westward, to the place of starting again, cities of gold, on the coast of promise--mysterious cure--a mirror's thrown down, and so without luck, without reflection we stop.
We have come to the beginning, the finish of the country, itinerary worn out, facing the surf--what sailors smell as land. We ask detailed questions. None of us can tell, so we tug on each other, "Come. Look."
In this lull, one at the tide line stoops to pick at foam and weeds; another builds a fire. The intended didn't arrive and there is no new plan. As the sun lowers, we face the mountains, consider what we have passed, and fall to dreaming, to scrounging.
- See more at: www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16578#sthash.MsZzX2GC....