poetry’s green pastures
So You, too...
So you, too, are a part of me. My solitude
always beginning, as grass grows, is a tide
running at daybreak out of the grayrose east
to slide over the sand, encircle
the drowned beauty, the dead bird, the old boot;
my life explores the caves, pours into pools,
hunts with the starry hunters. I stretch out
fingers of grass, fingers of flame, and touch
my own name engraved on air, own flesh
walking towards me down a dream. I wheel
as a wave pounces, unmask the stranger:
you too a part of me, I enter the gate of your eyes,
my beggar, my brother, answer of the sea.
I’ve been visiting and revisiting Denise and her magic pen since returning from Len & Liz Sweet’s Orcas Island home last week. While with the Sweets and other friends, I shared part of my desire to find fresh perspective in some specific spheres of life, toward that end Len guided me back to Levertov’s green pastures.