IMAGE OF EARTH AND QUILL

Guest Poet Lisa Gross


TO HANNES FOR HIS BIRTHDAY


I am sitting here in this metro car
thinking of you

words skip and slip
and I pretend the whirring of the car
is too distracting

but really itís my thoughts and feelings
that are
blurred

castanets click like butter knives
dropped on cold marble
floors

everyone clammers through the door
casting tall liquidy
reflections

i breathe in too deeply
and itís raining
here

everything seems so surreal
and misty

i canít think clearly
or concisely

or maybe iím just always like this

but there is also some kind of
clarity

some things seem cleaner and brighter
and just
more there
too much like a bergman film
too many symbols
i think

i donít understand why
my handwriting is so erratic
and merging into yours

but my jeans are deep indigo
and i fear i cannot write
prose nor a complete letter

harmonies stitched under
numerous layers
cast themselves

into prayers
with elbows locked and
hair pushed defiantly
to the side

i see you
standing there

stifled giggles near

hair the color of dijon mustard
wearing a kafka shirt
no one really understands

blue and red rhinestones sparkle
the length of the river
and rhyme

i know thatís for sure

come to terms
and reach
the end

lemonlight lustre
candle light bright

crashes from the blue velvet sky

i reach out
and clasp your warm fingers
in mine

and say
good night

September 1997


Lisa Gross' Questions:

What is your initial reaction after reading this poem?
Is the transition from direct prose to more abstract ideas too abrubt?
Which parts work, and which don't?


Correspond with Lisa Gross at:
lagross@erols.com
with your ideas about this poem.



The Albany Poetry Workshop