Saturday, April 25, 2015

NaPoWriMo - day twenty five


i heard you say
be more concrete
so i interpret it as density.
i pile up my ideas,
big as buckets,
and fill them with words
fluid to the touch,
the mind dipping in
and grasping at water
until the hands grow tired
of fishing
and you draw nearer
to the edge,
arms extended,
which can’t get you deep enough.
so then the first tentative steps
until you are immersed,
acclimating to this cold verse,
wondering which direction
you should face or where
this stream flows
until you either find purchase
or the courage to float,
be carried away,
or submerge.
look for pockets of air -
a space to insert your own voice
where it is
enfolded, and embraced,
and held under
the weight of the river,
the wet tradition of words,
the way language waters
the ground,
the way it grounds
your feet as you enter the story.

A Dubious Night by Richard Wilbur - NPM25

A Dubious Night

A bell dipthonging in an atmosphere
Of shying night air summons some to prayer
Down in the town, two deep lone miles from here,

Yet wallows faint or sudden everywhere,
In every ear, as if the twist wind wrung
Some ten years' tangled echoes from the air.

What kyries it says are mauled among
The queer elisions of the mist and murk,
Of lights and shapes; the senses were unstrung,

Except that one's star's synechdochic smirk
Burns steadily to me, that nothing's odd
And firm as ever is the masterwork.

I weary of the confidence of God.

Wilbur, Richard. "A Dubious Night" Upholding the Mystery: An Anthology of Contemporary Christian Poetry. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. 326.