ISSN 1758-6488
|
Wires Poetry |
print view |
3
Sorting through everything, throwing out
whatever I can , I reject first of all
the semaphore, that wildest dissonance
---though a whole chorus rushes to the rescue,
with sleeves like banners, but
I throw them out ----shamelessly----
the lyric drone of wires hums above me
as if I were in traction.
The telegraph ! Could we not communicate
more quickly? The sky is still above us,
a constant dispenser of emotion,
as tangible as lips….
The heavens arch above me
with dawn on the horizon,
even at this distance I can weave
a thread to reach you.
Across the harshest years of this epoch,
over disgusting piles of tackle and gear ,
here fly my unpublished sighs,
all my raging passions---they are
simpler than a telegram (loyal, urgent
even hackneyed) they will cross
the space between us along
these wires as gutters flood in Spring.
19 March 1923
3
