Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Poetry


Halfway up the hill

A giant hawk screams warning
I whistle back
then the dog barks
then the Volkswagen
lies dead in the woods
right there
It happens that way
on Sundays
out walking with God
Then the Volkswagen
lies smashed and dead
papers scattered across the straw
windshields blasted away
and I sit
where it sits
still as death
while my dog walks close
and sniffs and barks
and the sun warms my back
on an October Sunday
when leaves are crimson
more bright than the dead

My life is filled with symbols
and signs
like the dream of thumbs and fingers
Mimi says I need to be touched
Yes I say
Touch me
all you people
Touch me
and my heart will shatter open
like this broken windshield
so very still
so right with the world

And how in the hell did this
stolen heart of a Volkswagen
get up this hill halfway
to this place here
to be dumped lifeless
in the woods
And what's in it for me
where is the sign
what does it all mean
and where'd that hawk go?

Jeff Hartzer
1984

4 comments:

Memories Of Mine said...

Thanks for your support too. I'll be in and out of blog land for awhile the problem is I love it, I love visiting others and I find it hard to stay away.

I'm still working out a routine and weighing up the duties of my new role in the photography club, once I've done that then I'll be trying had to stick to a schedule.

Sandra said...

I know what you mean. But don't fret over it!

Ganeida said...

Hmmm. On one hand a very vivid picture. On the other I didn't much like the way he used words. Will think about it some more. Read it again. Maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention?

Sandra said...

I've been looking for more obscure poets. The well-known are too easy. I liked it for the same reason, vivid picture. I would concur it is a little rough, but I still found I liked it.