Forrest Gander Poems
|1.||Line Of Descent||3/28/2014|
|2.||Psychoanalysis Of Water||3/28/2014|
|5.||Bridge & Swimmer||3/28/2014|
|7.||Eye Against Eye [excerpt]||3/28/2014|
|8.||Prologue To A Bidding||3/28/2014|
|13.||The Thousand Somethings Of Someone||3/28/2014|
|14.||The Tinajera Notebook||3/28/2014|
|16.||The Moment When Your Name Is Pronounced||3/28/2014|
|17.||The Ark Upon His Shoulders||1/20/2003|
The Ark Upon His Shoulders
My husband did all this.We used to live
in a rambling kind of house with gossipy verandas.
Then he bought a stove, an iron stovewith a reservoir to it.
He always insisted it was bad luckto come in that door
and go out the other. It's bad luck to pay back salt
if you borrow it.To the day he died
he smelled pulled up from the dirt. He worked
the Norfolk Southern forty years walking on top
of freight trains. I've seen him up there
and the wind just blowing--you could see the wind
blowing his clothes.
Our second househe built it.
Cut me a yard broom from ...
Good morning kiss. Their teeth glance. Clack of June
bugs against pane. On the porch a young man
in the full sun rocking.
Jars incubate tomato plants. His mother sweeps the dirt
yard away from flowering vinca and bottle tree.
Straightens up, one-eyed by ragged hens. As her boy
ambles away to the steady pulse
in his skull.
The cattle gate