A THING THEY WEAR

 

After spring snow, what they saw

After they have tired of the brilliance of cities

Afterwards they shall dance

And do they so?

And then they were none

And they call this living

And with what bodies do they come?

And yet they are knocking at your door

As they draw to a close

Could that sweet darkness where they dwell

Dark they were, and golden-eyed

Dead as they come

Don't they make you sad?

Down from another planet they have settled to mend

Fragments: They dine with the past

How they broke away to go to the Rootabaga Country

How they brought good news from Ghent to Aix

How they don't let Pocahontas into Heaven

How they got her to quiet down

How they took the town of Lungtungpen

If they come in the night

In Europe they grow a new bean while here

Last spring they came over

Let me tell you a story of how they met

Midsummer was it when they died.

Might these be thrushes climbing through almost (do they

Some dreams they forgot

Sometimes they come back

Still they call it marriage

That which is one they shear and make it twain

That's what they say

The day they burned the books

The day they eulogized Mahalia

The distances they keep

The fecund complaint they are not honored by

The flashing pigeons as they wheel

The morning of the day they did it

The test is, if they drown

The things they carried

They all want to play Hamlet

They are all gone into the world of light!

They are all in love

They desire a better country

They dream only of America

They flee from me

They say this isn't a poem

They say the sea is loveless

Things as they are

Where are they now?

Who are they?


MAY 2008