Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Time Warp

Time Warp: "A hypothetical eccentricity of time moving back and forth between eras." Past and future, present in the poet's life. Dinnertime as a child ("When we sat to eat I looked at Daddy first, sniffed the air, alert").
A marriage's Mayday distress call ("Earthquake. Sudden trembling, accumulated energy, quick release along the faults"). Questions of aging in Feuilleton ("Do I sit and wait until I'm rickety, particular about my cereal, my Scotch?").

Here's a sample: 
Languages I Never Learned to Speak
When I was small I lived
near woods, but never learned
the plants or birds
or trees: how smooth
and double-toothed
the alder by the stream,
the juicy hemlock’s tiny cones,
the mystery of seeds.
And acorns, while familiar,
held no hint for me
of red oaks’ slender
catkins in the spring.
I knew the owls, of course,
and hummingbirds, but missed
the warblers, the wrens.
I couldn’t name the spicebush,
whose soft yellow leaves
would tantalize my dreams,
and blackberries that stained
my fingers’ loops and whorls
could teach me only
e’s and y’s and o’s.

1 comment:

tialevings said...

That's lovely. I grew up on 80 acres in northern Michigan and share that same lost language. I was in the midst but never truly knew the names and words of all the life around me.