Thursday, April 7, 2011

The age of miracles.

"I wondered how long could this thing last/ But the age of miracles hadn't passed"
Ira Gershwin, 'A Foggy Day'

If I was away from home these swamps and karat swales
Would seem sweet.

I'd fall to the smallest shallows, kissing them--these bowels,
These furious fanning rainy folds.

Gold for gold--
Inspired, if not informed by the abnormalities of wisdom
I would fall--and meet.

Here my eyes may go on, greenly on, rove--then rove.
See the whispers of sand so rarely sold,

Head from salt-scraped hand it's easily known
The same--in sum, is as easily borrowed.

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