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Moving On
| Article
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15220 |
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Section : |
THE ARTS
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| Issue
Date : |
8 / 1989 |
1,080 Words |
| Author
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Christopher Wiseman
Christopher Wiseman has published five books of poetry,
including Postcards Home, 1988. His works have appeared in
some sixty publications on both sides of the Atlantic. |
Texas Backroads, Summer
Here is inertia with no end.
The ground itself contains it, breathes it,
And an immensity of flatness
Stunts us like bereavement as we drive.
This since sun-up. All the hours, the heat.
We're lost.
There's a tall unpainted house
Back from the road, its old air full
Of sad couplings and slow dyings--
Such tiny human efforts out here
In the endless unwinding of our nightmare.
Or suddenly, windows smashed,
An abandoned concrete gas-station
With high-necked Ethyl pumps and a wrecked pick-up.
Once some slow white-haired blacks
In underwear spitting on the ground as we passed.
Where we've come from recedes in our minds--
This place will have none of it.
The sun is bigger than belief.
Stopped, it's all silence, save for flies,
Dog barking thin over
... (2000 of 5185 Characters)
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