9 thoughts on “”

1. Vanishing Point

   “Look at the birds in the sky. They do not sow or reap
   or gather into barns…” ~ Matthew 6:26

   The sky and ground are the same
   flat white, as if for once the sights
   trained by the worm low in the ground
   and that of the bird dangling from a branch
   have merged with one another, and now
   there is no difference between earth
   and heaven, duty and desire. Your mother cheers
   the squirrel bounding over the icy crust; and mine,
   by text from thousands of miles away, reminds me
   of small creatures that do not glean or gather,
   and yet increase. In a book fallen open
   on my lap, a poet I’ve just met* has penned
   a song of sorry lovers, who’ve whispered
   “Take me. You know you want to.” In this world,
   how are we supposed to know how all these bridges
   connect to one another, why it is that some exact
   a toll while at others, the way seems clear as bright
   ribbons of space and light, merging with the horizon.

   ~ Luisa A. Igloria
   02 05 2011

   * Kelli Russell Agodon, “Song of the Sorry Lovers”, from Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room (White Pine, 2010)

   • Great poem! (You realize, I hope, that in reality that wasn’t cheering but an enjoining to leave?)

     • Would you rather change to “…your mother yells/ at the squirrel…” ???

       • It’s fine either way, really — poetic license and all. Whichever you prefer.

2. After a hectic conference and train ride, and still a beautiful poem! Super-poet, I say.

   • I’ve given up trying to find apt descriptors for Luisa’s genius.

     • Oh shush. Or… if you have nominating powers for one a’those MacArthur Genius grants, I won’t demur, hahaha!

       • Alas, I do not. I’m nobody (he says, channelling Dickinson).

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