Edward Wright Haile
Edward Wright Haile Poems
A World Without People
… a world of birds and ponds,
of camphor-scented glades, a new one
in morning flames beyond each one
my soul comes and inquires within,
one with showers of light spotting the sea’s nameless floors,
nameless glades, full of chatter,
colored roots, great cats loping in retreat,
big-eyed dogs licking and shameless,
and never the solitaire hand of money-making,
the forcing plow before the money-shire,
the clink of scheming, the cuss of sweat,
but a world that washes, cools, christens with scent,
a world of life farmed with the...
In Search Of A Theory
How microscropic do my parts have to be
before you couldn’t tell they were alive?
Where does this notion of eternity
at large within a whispered soul derive?
How do parts know that? Do they know aught else?
Who’re the smallest things that know I live?
Or say what rung of magnitude first tells
my parts they live, they die, they have reprieve?