[New-Poetry] Fw: About Poetry: Special Delivery Poem

[Anny Ballardini]

PoetryI am digging down here now... and found Graham's beautiful poem!

----- Original Message ----- 
From: Bob Holman & Margery Snyder - About.com Poetry Guide 
To: anny.ballardini at TIN.IT 
Sent: Sunday, April 20, 2008 2:16 PM
Subject: About Poetry: Special Delivery Poem


       Poetry 
     
      In the Spotlight | More Topics |  
        from Bob Holman & Margery Snyder
      David Graham contributed today's poem to the About Poetry library when we published his memoir about Richard Eberhart in 2005, and we think it repays rereading now. Enjoy!

     
     
       
      In the Spotlight 
            "The Writing Life"
            by David Graham

            I said the moon and the moon said nothing.
            I said trumpet muted by memory
            and no one, not even a crow, rose
            above that, though I could go no lower.
            I was about to say water long desired
            when the sidewalks darkened with the bloom
            of rain, aspens shivering in that welcome wind.
            I said who knows a thing about tomorrow's sun
            and no one contradicted me, even though
            I was sure no one was listening.

            I said the gladsome sigh of bedsheets,
            and yes, I actually said gladsome, but I also
            said car without muffler, I said glass
            after glass of water, I said the crawl
            of a ceiling bug, and for what?
            And to whom? I said even this, and then
            carefully chose whether or not to say
            passagework, brick town, chickadee, pudding,
            just as I chose which past to believe
            and which long love song I would sing.

            I said this might just be gorgeous nonsense
            and meant it, at least for a full afternoon,
            for one crazy weekend, for half my life
            and all my semi-precious sleep,
            for I said just about anything if I thought
            a deer might hear it, a doe silhouetted
            at dusk on a snowy ridge, a doe
            musky and without symbolism
            in a field I still gladden to enter, her tracks
            barely visible in snowmelt by the time I arrive.

            © 2005, David Graham

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