1282
at first we looked under a stone
concerning
the discovery of sunshine
in Vesteraalens
it makes a kind of poem too
at first we looked under a stone
then a boulder
we lit up a bushel with hopes
it paints the truth of mountains this stuff
little snows from out the misted hidings
where creature and crevice are one
the Vikings never found this
though they came ever so far
summer could sleep with it
small horses go giddy up with
dwarves sweated with ladders and ropes
we rode a bicycle after the rainbow
hopped in our little car for the chase
it was a godbolt first
like a parting
I think there are flowers in it
and the bees must be in charge
it’s a close sky to top the world
clouds will always touch and part
come again
never the same cloud
but spin into nothing
a limited palette
follow just a colour of it
this bird much smaller than the song
how many dead years?
how much night?
so many have left us behind
but here’s morning
the arrows
page to page
turn a sky
they’re yellowed remembering
someone must have knitted winter long
imagined from a fire
has to have been something like this
call it the living daylights
falls so precarious here
it’s only a moment and fondly
I need to walk into this now
and then
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.