Davis McCombs
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Soon we had fashioned a rude boat,
and with lanterns affixed to the prow
were ferrying tours across the smoky waters:
Styx, Lethe, Echo River, the host
...
Once, the Doctor spoke to me at length
of stars and prognostications, how,
when we observe the waxing of the Moon,
everything cognate to her nature--marrow
...
There came to us, Tuesday last, a man
of most peculiar visage. The Doctor,
to whom we turned for insight, muttered
of abominations, dismissed our questions.
...
The Best Poem Of Davis McCombs
Echo River
Soon we had fashioned a rude boat,
and with lanterns affixed to the prow
were ferrying tours across the smoky waters:
Styx, Lethe, Echo River, the host
of wonders I had found. By slapping
the water with the flat of my paddle,
there comes a sound like the ringing of bells,
a mournful, hollow melody--waves lap-
ping and beating under the low stone arches.
The voice, too, will reproduce in myriad;
often I have led a tour in song, shouts raised
or pistols fired on the dark, deep water.
Children of a clanging, squeaking world,
we cannot bear the silence.
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4/25/2024 11:03:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
