Last weekend at Back of Beyond Books in Moab I picked up some poetry by the late, great Jim Harrison. The writer of many works including Legends Of The Fall died this March, but left behind a cornucopia of literary goodness for us to chew on. So in this age of Pokemon Go and The Donald why not take a break from the madness to ponder some poetry? I even threw in a little pallet cleanser from Harrison for my fellow lightweights. Enjoy!
Broom
To remember you're alive
visit the cemetery of your father
at noon after you've made love
and are still wrapped in a mammalain
odor that your are forced to cherish.
Under each stone is someone's inevitable
surprise, the unexpected death
of their biology that struggled hard, as it must.
Now to home without looking back,
enough is enough.
En route buy the best wine
you can afford and a dozen stiff brooms.
Have a few swallows then throw the furniture
out he window and begin sweeping.
Sweep until the walls are
bare of paint and at your feet sweep
until the floor disappears. Finish the wine
in this field of air, return to the cemetery
in the evening and wind through the stones
and slow dance of your name visible only to birds.
The Current Poor
The rich are giving the poor bright-colored
balloons, a dollar a gross, also bandages,
and leftover Mercurochrome from the fifties.
It is an autumn equinox and full moon present,
an event when night and day are precisely
equal, but then the poor know that night
always wins, grows wider and longer
until Christmas when they win a few minutes.
Under the tree there is an orange as big as a basketball.
It is the exiled sun resting in its winters coolness.
Blue Shawl
The other day at the green dumpsters,
an old woman in blue shawl
told me that she loved my work.
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