[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday's Exchange

  • From: Eric Yost <mr.eric.yost@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 18 May 2008 01:35:05 -0400

>No pick me up as good as your hand in mine.


Driftwood does it, lambent in a tide,
lips blister from it, perfect as a thorn,
more than can nourish or tease or charm.
This day’s eye sockets grey, her gone,
the scalding brown and black of vistas,
sleepless hunger alone by a river or sea,
always willing ambassadors of a sort,
decked with courtesies and spindrift treaties,
or solo violins, ardent and alien songs
raindrops on the window, background noise.

From these too obvious connections, things lost,
saints and cathedrals sunk, echo, eternal cloud,
a nerve alights on slimmest sparkle, dawn’s gold,
bird call maybe, winter rose, ginger, or baby laugh,
and from this stellar core calls down the sky
calls down a turn to disarm the cold armor
with gratitude for every returning thing.

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