or maybe the eyes of many
To post or not to post I do not know
But this poem is a poem
of simple thoughts by great minds
the collaboration of eras and worlds
What comes around goes around
and around and around
like a broken carousel
whose drunk operator passed out
tired and intoxicated from the laughter
of children and baby
Who will never wake up to let the kids off
An object in motion shall remain in motion
until stopped by another force
the force of a bus stopping you
on your way to physics
hurrying as you're late
the best lessons come from experience
Simple thoughts by great minds
Roots
Mendota, Illinois
It's easy to believe you can go back
Whenever you desire, jump in the car
And drive, arrive at dusk—the hour
You recall most vividly—and walk
Among the buildings spread across the farm,
Out toward the pastures, woods, and fields.
There is music in the leaves, in the dense
Columns of green corn. The wind lays down
The tune. You can play it, too, simply
By walking with eyes closed, arms
Stretched out, lightly striking the stalks.
Who wouldn't desire, like the children
Lost in so many similar fields,
To sit down on the turned earth and drift
Away on the rhythms of his own
First possible death? Rescuing
Voices come closer, veer off. Flashlight beams
Strobe over your head. You do not care.
Each building you remember—hen house,
Sheep shed, corn crib, barn—caved in upon itself,
The walls and roofs collapsing with a final
Percussive clap, since you last walked those fields.
No one you will ever know works that land now.
It is as green as Eden. Life rises in the roots, in the leaves.
Source: Poetry (September 1998).
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