Why
not take a jar of wine
and each day visit the arch?
You can place sandbags at the door
as I wind the stairwell up.
a stretch of park lengthens.
The traffic below is a mosquito
shut in a jar, silent.
a life of rush-whizz.
I sip red and gravity
whirs me down.
I list languages.
You, geology,
I, ruins.
I hold when everywhere
spins, and celerity
overwhelms. You are
Here, on the Grand arch,
Lincoln
a gesture toward unity, you say.
rings on a tree stump charting
the years, the length of the equator.
I kiss the fact of this empty jar: your mouth.
and each day visit the arch?
You can place sandbags at the door
as I wind the stairwell up.
a stretch of park lengthens.
The traffic below is a mosquito
shut in a jar, silent.
a life of rush-whizz.
I sip red and gravity
whirs me down.
I list languages.
You, geology,
I, ruins.
I hold when everywhere
spins, and celerity
overwhelms. You are
Here, on the Grand arch,
Lincoln
a gesture toward unity, you say.
rings on a tree stump charting
the years, the length of the equator.
I kiss the fact of this empty jar: your mouth.
I feel drunk and dizzy after reading this. Very beautiful...
Posted by: Tameka Mullins (Tamstarz) | April 10, 2010 at 11:23 AM
Good poem.
Posted by: Eric Bourland | April 10, 2010 at 12:16 PM
This is the most beautiful poem. Filled with love of nature, words, travel and the person who is your guide. It feels like a sunny day when you are pondering the world - full of peace.
Posted by: Anne Powers | April 11, 2010 at 12:57 PM
liz,
your poem is so breathtakingly beautiful that it made me cry.
what magnificent imagery and intimate dialogue...
brava!
thank you for thinking of sending it to me.
love,
judy
Posted by: judy | April 11, 2010 at 02:33 PM
"a life of rush-whizz"
beautiful. Thank you for this!
Posted by: Chloe Dietz | April 11, 2010 at 03:10 PM
beautiful!
Posted by: Leah Iannone | April 12, 2010 at 10:14 AM
Great last line!
Posted by: Daria Farrell | April 12, 2010 at 03:39 PM