Seeds and miracles
A mechanical spirit
The Father, The Mother,
Sons of steel, Daughters of the revolution
The will to pause
At dawn, in the mist, or ruins
to toast, sing, genuflect
Pity like some thing in the street
Pride like some thing in the mirror
A stick to carry remorse, regret
Virgin wool pristine with the memory of youth
Old rags sour with age
Layers of knowledge, upon knowledge, upon knowledge
-mortar between bricks laid in endless echoing vaults
And in these recesses, where nothing can touch, light, or hold sway,
Can we know how much a man contains?
*The title is taken from The Hemorrhage by Stanley Kunitz
This is the latest version of a list poem I have reworked many times over.
The Bar is open!