cracking what joints I have left and pulling the sword from the stone in my kidney but just kidding we will have to form an orderly queue after all
folded in a musty book
who knows if this design will agree to
finally fly but the caves in
the round curves of the vast rolling
hills of the summer clouds call so
sweetly to the lonely bird in my chest
rubbing the lamp
Sonnet
skimmed emails we deleted too quickly
may have mentioned the forest of bright spears
and ships ready to launch, but once we saw the
reports on the quarterly report from
Ichthyosaur & Associates we
had no doubt what they were up to with those
color-shifting lobbyists and gift baskets
reeking of brine and though they wrote of missed
opportunities no one missed the flotsam
flecked with blood, tossed by ceaseless waves that could
break on our belovèd beans just learning
to climb towards those heavy clouds pierced by sun—
he stopped, mumbled something roses fingers
dawn and walked away from the empty chairs
The Carrier of Ladders
Poems by W. S. Merwin
DISCARD
Ferguson Library
Date Due
Jun – 3 1975
Jun 9 1976
Nov 16 ’76
Jan 24 1977
Aug 15 1977
Feb 21 ’78
Jan 11 1979
May 19 1979
Jun 13 1979
Nov 22 1980
May 6 1981
Jun 22 1982
Dec 4 1982
May 25 1983
May 28 1987
RENEWAL
Jun 17 1987
RENEWAL
Jul 7 – 1987
Jul 28 1987
RENEWAL
Aug 17 1987
Nov 2 1989
Jun 11 1990
RENEWAL
Jul 2 1990
RENEWAL
Jul 16 1990
RENEWAL
Jul 30 1990
Sep 7 1990
Oct 11 1990
Oct 31 1990
if I had a screwdriver
light blue dark blue sky peppered stars
the dog lingers sniffs a neighbor’s
pumpkin and music from somewhere
far or near I once loved the feel
of night on my body wanders
under what little light comes through
though I still haven’t found it
TV from
before the
crisis and
maybe knocked
down by the
storm a small
round fluff bird
cries past the
window and
the fat dog
awake now
with eyes wide
do I admit shamefully sheepishly that I love the stream of music video podcast my phone tablet computer can provide the immersion in old loves missed opportunities new lush lands to be lost in but why not what’s better for those of us who lose the thread so quickly what was that Pavement tune that Philip glass bit I love but maybe I’m getting too Prozac I mean prosaic I think maybe now anyway all the hints can drive you mad you think they’re heading somewhere but one turn around the lake and we’re back at the front door unkissed
other animals 