I’m starting with some old stuff. This one’s about thinking and writing, and that’s all I’ll say…
Vision
A footprint on the moon? Yes, a step
In the once-happeningness of pilgrimage;
Then, the furtive overlapping of cloud.My heart tills an alertness of love,
Setting store for tomorrow’s troubles.
I hunker down by the field of droughtTo see what can be kept, what withers.
Seasons choose wetness or dryness
But human frames adapt, improve and swellThe harvest of mere accidents.
Still among scatter-crow panic I drop safe
In a hearth place of anywhere.This hold of mind. This net of being.
These lines I press and furrow, my smudge
Among the the fingerprints of vision.
I really love the rhythm of this poem, its pacing. Almost like a lullaby, sung by someone already dreaming…its beautiful, but unsettling too – like all good poetry. What does it mean? I’m not sure! But its got under my skin, and is generating possibilities, which is a true gift.
In fact, all these poems strike me as leaning more toward the mythic underrcurents of waking life, as opposed to the chatter of the secular ego, as if they exist to draw the poet out of the known and into the unknown of the soul…on a quest for what though?
Reminds me of Medh McGuckian a bit too. Good stuff Rob!