Saturday, August 10, 2013

A Poem for Saturday: A selection from "Companion Grasses" by Brian Teare

Thank you Slate:

                        a silence endless
                                    as the air into which our fathers
                        last looked out, thinking, like Thoreau,
            “Here was no man’s garden
                                    It was Matter, vast, terrific…
                        the felt presence of a force not bound
            to be kind to man.” It’s how
            our fathers’ rest ends in us :
                        we stand & start toward the angle
                                    the afternoon light leans against
                        the long stone wall
                                    farther up the ridge : it’s there
                        the path ascends to Atlas Peak
            where we’ll bury their vision in air—

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