Testing Gardening (audio only)
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
On the road home the tide is rising.
Riding the road-tide is dangerous
but it’s not safe to stand still.
Hang on the verge & you drown.
I’m going along for the tide.
I may see more riders further on.
Drowning must wait till I get there
In a skiff on a sunrisen lake we are watchers. Swimming aimlessly is luxury just as walking loudly up a shallow stream is. As we lean over the deep well, we whisper. Friends at hearths are drawn to the one warm air; strangers meet on beaches drawn to the one wet sea. What wd it be to be water, one body of water (what water is is another mystery) (We are water divided.) It wd be a self without walls, with surface tension, specific gravity a local exchange between bedrock and cloud of falling and rising, rising to fall, falling to rise.
(1962)