clamped within this middle west
i do not blame this land
i love
these fields and farms
these forests parked within
a town made large
that plays at being a city
the vice is not here
within these steaming streets
that simmer and spit humanity
nor is it closed within
the thigh-high, claustrophobic corn
that drones with ceaseless buzzing
no
soon, soon all this will be tinged
with coolness
tinged with the deepening red
of maple leaves
and maybe, just maybe,
redbirds cracking bats
against a cold october sky
still there is this unease
these longings that flit past
like flickering scenes
from a car doing eighty
of misty mountain trees
evoking space and time
now gone
your words are like food for soul..
Thank you, shraddha. It is really a collection of ideas just now, but whow knows perhaps I will craft it into a more formal poem at some point. Thanks for stopping by the blog.
In many ways, this reflection might become the counterpoint to the hoosiers poem: http://thedasslereffect.wordpress.com/2008/10/07/reprint-watching-hoosiers-in-the-himalayas/
this is so great! love it.
Thanks, Angela. It is a bit of a work in progress, but I like many of the images in it.