David Lehman

(June 11, 1948 / New York City)

To The Author Of Glare - Poem by David Lehman

There comes a time when the story turns into twenty
different stories and soon after that he academy of shadows
retreats to the cave of a solitary boy in a thriving

metropolis where no one remembers the original story
whic is, of course, a sign of its great success: to be forgotten
implies you were once known, and that is something we

can prize more than the gesture greater than the achievement:
but I wander from the main point: the main point is one
among many fine dots so fine you need a microscope to see them

but then they multiply like germs: the work of the deepest cells
is ergonomically incorrect, but effective nevertheless, like
my footprints in the snow leading to you, wou would be my father

if this were a dream and I on the verge of waking up somewhere
other than home: but the hours remain ours, though they
were gone almost as soon as they arrived, hat and coat in hand.




[Glare is a book of poetry by A. R. Ammons.]


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Read poems about / on: success, poetry, snow, father, work, dream, home, time, remember



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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