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| photograph by les roberts |
His grandfather came to this place
and hammered pegs into the hard flint
marking out the boundaries of his dreams
staking the wide limits of his audacity
and hammered pegs into the hard flint
marking out the boundaries of his dreams
staking the wide limits of his audacity
His father came to this place
and thirsted for more than it offered
pierced its skin and gristle and sinew
a cannula for manna from below
He came to this place
and drank of the diluted blood
of his father
and of his grandfather
damn it, you're a poet. there's no hope for you now.
ReplyDeleteI had to look up cannula. Not a pretty picture.
The Pioneer, followed by the Oil Baron, followed by the Mineral Rights Exploiter. Not a pretty picture. "Dilution" indeed. What strange cycles we go through of diluting and diluting that somehow get renewed... is it individual heroism that renews these cycles? Or does something collective happen, a Golden Age?