View of the Lemhi Valley in Idaho
From the Yearian Cemetery.The site of Thomas Savage's first novel: THE PASS.
Where 10 years feels like a hundred
Dust and mud are the earth's grudge against godless men
*
Even a tranquil blue sky harbors a chill
shimmering in the marrow of existence
*
(It's Georg Trakl in the guise of cowboy poet.)
posted by borneman at 8:37 PM
2 Comments:
Reminds me of a poem i wrote once
Dog Thinks of Trakl
The dark fir, snow, haunted
evening light reminds Dog
of Georg Trakl’s poetry which master
reads aloud now and then, “blackness,
silence and snow” although
it isn’t exactly silent, the car stereo
across the street battering obnoxiously, still
Dog is filled with inexpressible sorrow
and an inexhaustible appetite for young
wine. Out of the darkness and would-be
silence, the companionship of a forest-hemmed
tavern beckons. The young wine, pats
on the head, maybe even a belly scratching.
But the car leaves, and silence does now descend,
and along with it, the “blue grief of evening.”
but cha dinna hear it from me
piper
i likes this here poem muchly
do you know the work of
FT Prince
who wrote a whole poem
in the voice/thoughts of the
dog of st rock
anyways
ciao
autumn winks
jh
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