EVERY DAY IS
SOMETHING MISSED
Alabaster Nefertiti morning glory wine.
And all this memory has a tree. Along
the winding ridge at Waverly we are
picking riverbed fossils while, along
our back, Route 17 buzzes away
like a wild child : 75 frantic miles
back to Binghamton grows. John
Gardner and Joe David Weil.
-
How easy need it be to judge others,
to choose and select and grade? It
would never be my place, the lording
over of what is seen. I've pre-supposed
my own reticence long ago, and put it
to the fore: like movie idols resting
their rest, it all seems just to go on.
-
Blind man in a tub. Doctor on a limb.
Parson with a skate. All these bugs
and mollusks, all frozen in their
muddied time : picking fossils
in Waverly, seeking the rhyme.
When everything else fails, and
fails again, why not just give it up?
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