He leads from our house down a tired road
trotting like the master of a thousand men.
He rushes as usual behind a crowd of maples
to sniff out canine neighbors and fowl presence.
Immediately bursting off the ground, already
the geese are in place: a perfect V formation
flying away. It is always at this hour, passing by,
when a day of my past breaks away with them:
a moment from childhood looks back at me
to the time we hid ourselves beside a lake of geese,
or last week’s pardon, as needed as cool water,
evaporates and joins the cloud of forgotten days.
I believe my dog knows it, faithful lord that he is,
and brings me back day after day to wave goodbye.
He knows which roads twist to where peace is,
and he discerns the right pace to pad on home.
And who am I to argue with intelligence?
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Paris. September, 1993
I remember the the hotel room as black,
except for one white bed in the corner
illuminated by a large window, the sheets
barely wrinkled where I had left them.
I was five and the others were sleeping
somewhere in their own memory.
The window, like an ivory roman pillar,
reached from ceiling to ground, set apart
from the vast blackness of the carpet
and into the wall enough for a child to hide
and press his face against the outside.
I watched lights shift green, orange, then red.
Small cars stopped and the walkers walked.
I became rapt with rumbles of engines waiting
and the vision of strangers of the world
crossing the street towards a lighted balustrade.
The city’s buildings glowed against the black
and white that shaped our hotel room.
And I was larger than them all. At that moment,
I knew peace within that tall window, insomnia
driven by wonder, and transcendence behind glass.
I witnessed motion, seeing lights change green.
I felt my body and spirit grow inches in the dark
as my eyes became older, awake and aware.
-------------------------------------------------------
Barefoot, I Go Walking In Late Summer
Out of the door, I enter the dust of day.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind
and no footsteps are left from before,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks.
Each morning, I go sweeping with the wind:
toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
the pavement rough as my father’s cheeks,
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf.
Toes warm against the sunburned concrete,
my soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
I am one of many passing by, a cat, a leaf,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
My soles press pine needles and gray pebbles.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet,
a king, a caveman; I do not know just what I am.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
The crepe myrtle’s blossoms are cast at my feet
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I go on walking and feel power in my steps.
Wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean
like a victory blessing, given me by God.
I am a changed man. In the morning light
wet grass brushes my skin. It washes me clean.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path.
I am a changed man in the morning light
and no footsteps are left from before.
I return through summer seeds scattering my path
in through the door; I leave the dust of day.
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Although I'm not quite reaching the goal my friend and I have set to write 30 poems in 30 days (I've been a little too busy teaching school for that), I have enjoyed the poems that have come out of what I have done. I enjoy writing pantoums as of late because I find power in its form. Part of what inspired these poems in general is the poem "Pantoum of the Great Depression" which uses end-stopped lines to great effect. Each line seems to hold its own.
Normally, I have commentary about my poetry and what inspired them etc., but it all honesty, I feel these poems are pretty self explanatory. The first was inspired by someone walking a dog and geese flying by. The second is a revision of a poem about a real memory I have about Paris. And the third and final poem was inspired today as I took a walk outside barefoot. Perhaps the ideas are slightly more complex, but nor do I think these poems are that obtuse either.
I hope you enjoy the poems!
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