Saturday, May 29, 2010

If It All Went Up in Smoke

that smoke

would remain

the forever

savage country poem's light borrowed

light of the landscape and one's footprints praise

from distance

in the close

crowd all

that is strange the sources

the wells the poem begins

neither in word

nor meaning but the small

selves haunting

us in the stones and is less

always than that help me I am

of that people the grass

blades touch

and touch in their small

distances the poem


-George Oppen

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