Monday, November 01, 2004



In its first thin tide. In the place
to which it’s come like a stranger.
Where the day is a map
you cannot read, crickets begin
in the warm night to whirr
green songs they could not unlearn
had they minds to grow bored.
The willow tree shudders
as though it were sewn up
with twitching nerves, with wire
bright as new-minted pennies. Where
do you go to gain the ear
of the moon, its ravaged face
lamented by no one? And
what do you tell something so old
it cannot remember
being once part of the world and not the sky?
What would your shadow care
to hear, to come close, to touch
hand to wall the tremor
of a passing train? If it had bones inside it,
you know it would flee.
So what are your words worth
to the hurried traffic,
to everything blurred,
to the ice cream truck
and its sweet patrol,
its song spilling out like a toy,
even in the dark? For all the sunlight
passing from the world
like a thought, who might you sing
to timid sleep? However long
you waited for rain
to rinse you of light’s molten color,
for the elbow of the river
to bend back
to your life, the grass whispers
you waited too long
and all the while it speaks
it grows.


MisanthropicAnthropoid said...

I like a lot about this. Will comment more soon; blogger has been so damn slow.

MisanthropicAnthropoid said...

Is this still in the "Buffy tradition"? I noticed an earlier title that I liked less so I was glad to see the new title.

You know you could have a whole series from different characters points of view. Willow, Xander, Spike, Anya, Giles, you name it.

I feel more Xanderish myself; might even try another one. ;-)

what do you tell something so old
it cannot remember
being once part of the world and not the sky?
--These lines really evoke something with geologic age

OK this is a typical stupid workshop question -- I love the ending but what exactly is doing the waiting, and why is it too late?

MisanthropicAnthropoid said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
MisanthropicAnthropoid said...

Added Willow's Apologia at:

Willow's Apologia

Ana Bozicevic-Bowling said...

Don't even ask how I ran into your journal, but just wanted to say that I like this poem a lot. And that's a lot to say!