Poems January 2005
Landscape
Trepanned: in other words, my mind wanders
no further than the map I drew from memory,
marking the stone-circled embers memory makes smoke
—wisps to occlude whatever arrow-line I’d draw next.
Next is the legend: asterisk for tree, circle for settlement,
double dagger for ruins, circled star for fallen star,
wave of my hand for broken satellite, exhalation for
exhalation spent climbing the rise step by step toward
the form of the field, the retirement of assent.
Here the lake, here site of ambush, here fallen king.
The thistle’s tendency—its bent posture—toward the oracular.
The wolf’s basking ruse.
A Message from the Editors
At The New Criterion we will always call things by
their real names.
As a reader of our efforts, you have stood with us on the front lines in the battle for culture. Learn how your support contributes to our continued defense of truth.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 23 Number 5, on page 33
Copyright © 2022 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com
https://newcriterion.com/issues/2005/1/landscape-1204