Wednesday, April 8, 2015

POEM: "For The Territory"

For The Territory 

Lights out for the Territory 
one day (you know it's coming)
speaking with snakes as he crosses
the riverbank, and shakes the grass
and watches how the horizon moves

Carries a heavy old pack, a G.I. poncho
impermeable enough, and clothes around
a single book that keeps changing its words
the poetry of the world busy in a storm, cars
passing him by, sometimes the driver honks

Direction suggests itself in wind
the wind is directed by hope, which
could have been indicated by love, if it
hadn’t just started to piss down, if he hadn’t
just seen a bolt of lightning explode a tree

After a while he starts laughing hard
with what has to be a certain divinity, gods
just as wet and cold as he is, the Territory
receding and succeeding till the gray sun rises
and when he rounds the bend you’re waiting.

© 2015 Rob Schackne

painting: Mark Rothko, "Blue, Green and Brown"

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