Perhaps you didn't realize Anything can happen under a sky like this. Never give in to surprise: Not for mountains Who turn under sheets and breathe in Each other's green scent; Not for the lights where nobody lives; Not for blood-colored mushrooms That rise up one after one like little presidents; Not for the small self, afraid It has misunderstood the question. Oh it's prepared to answer anyway, It has its array of modest affirmations Like anyone. Just that -- So many years and something in the leaves Does not fall. I find young starlings in the lake's ice, Their wings spread like death-flowers pressed in a book; Find moths spawned in the woodshed Like a winter's supply of blossoms. It's just that I was looking for a world To walk into empty-handed. That's when I found you, female, shamelessly Sailing toward me in your folded paper boat. Don't deny it, please. At night the self feels smaller And water is scarce in parts of the mind. The small self is obliged, therefore, To take back everything Anyone has ever said. No one is allowed to speak now But you Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROTESTATION by THOMAS CAREW RED IS FOR WINTER by JESSIE GODDARD BROMAN THE PARTRIDGE by JOHN BURROUGHS TO A PHOEBE-BIRD by WITTER BYNNER VERSES: ON THE TRANSMIGRATION OF SOULS by JOHN BYROM BODY AND SPIRIT by ELLEN MAGRATH CARROLL TO A KINGFISHER by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS THE PROPHECY OF FAMINE; A SCOTS PASTORAL INSCRIBED TO JOHN WILKES by CHARLES CHURCHILL |