![]() Not even nightfall, whose gold we are, can find us.īIO: James Galvin is the author of several collections of poetry, including Resurrection Update: Collected Poems, 1975-1997 and X (2003) a novel, Fencing the Sky (1999) and The Meadow (1992), a prose meditation on the landscape of the Wyoming-Colorado border and the people who live there. ![]() Their poor, enormous heads reeled in the aquatic air.Ī monumental feather the geese flew over. The shallows, now dry, were peopled with lilies: To watch the small deer they call fallow deerĪnd the geese lay down in the grass to sleep. So I went for a walk around Hematite Lake With ourselves inside it like ore in the igneous dark. In relation to the light we have, consider it final. There is no philosophy of death where I liveĪs children we walked in it, a mile to school, If the forest wants to go somewhere it spreads The fences snap the trunks of smaller trees So greedy pulling down these drifts that bury Poemoftheweek poem of the weekĭrifting along through cause and effect like sleepĪs when the distance unlikeliest of stems ![]()
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