two

Maybe this should have been my first post, but I got a little trigger happy with my own writing and neglected the writing I copied and put up at the top of this blog. "the withering / meadows at nothing" is the last line and a half of the CK Williams poem "Loss." Maybe some day I will write something intelligent about it instead of just sit in slackjawed awe whenever I remember it. Anyway, I would rather just post it than say how much I like it (a lot!), so here:

C.K. Williams

Loss

In this day and age Lord

you are like one of those poor famers

who burns the forest off

and murders his lands and then

can't leave and goes sullen and lean

among the rusting yard junk, the scrub

and the famished stock.

Lord I have felt myself raked

into the earth like manure,

harrowed and plowed under,

but I am still enough like you

to stand on the porch

chewing a stalk or drinking

while tall weeds come up dead

and the house dogs, snapping

their chains like moths, howl

and point towards the withering

meadows at nothing.