American Landscapes — I

First light
beginning clear and violent
in the East.
There is no sound.

All I carry
of the cypresses
                  the dust
                  is here
and the sunflowers
the smell of corn and horses
where I’m walking.

There are towns here too
and in them
men to pass the time.
I know them.

Over their streetlights
over their shadows and voices
quick winds and
darkness when the sun goes
nowhere any water.

5 thoughts on “American Landscapes — I

  1. Karen M June 18, 2009 / 5:45 pm

    Just curious… does the sun ever set on our stabs at empire?

    • William Timberman June 18, 2009 / 8:15 pm

      Soon, I think. Historically speaking, anointing our first emperor from the distant provinces is probably a bad sign, even if he has taken the tria nomina, successfully sought marriage into an ancient family, and remains ever careful to be seen sacrificing at the temple of Jupiter like any ordinary citizen.

  2. bebop-o June 30, 2009 / 4:15 am

    Gentle cousin of the forrest-green.
    Married to green in all the sweetest flowers,–
    Forget-me-not, — the blue bell, — and, that Queen
    Of secrecy, the violet.
    – from sonnet, ‘Blue’ by John Keats

    Howdy, William Timberman

    • William Timberman June 30, 2009 / 6:44 am

      Howdy back, bop. Good of you to drop by, and with such a gift, too. Keats always has the power to startle, even when you think you’ve heard it all before.

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