298
why
is it one tries to retrieve a beginning?
it's
like seeing back
over
the horizon
to
where we're from
to
where the world was
before
the turning
as
if then
everything
was understood
here's
how I remember
it's
past dusk
flat
with a window onto the harbour
I
had set sail in the bath of toys
so
many days the far shore
in
a nautical sort of house like a light
grey
bay lapping crooked wharf
brought
to berth by nightfall
the
blue is black now
the
tide's abob
there's
a pocket full of strange coins
I
remember
what
it was I can't recall
I
knew the green of the water
close
up
that
conversation
over
my head
not
a word I can't make out
I admire the way this poems moves about on the waters.
ReplyDeletethe trick is keeping the poem's head above water
ReplyDeleteI keep thinking of Eliot's 'mixing memory and desire' ...
ReplyDeleteonly beginnings can have ends?
ReplyDeleteDavid - are you saying that dull roots can be stirring ... somehow?
ReplyDeleteand yes, the first ones now will later be last and so on and so forth