Books > Old Books > Poetry Northwest (1959)


Page 16

David Wagoner
THE FIRST DAY OF A SEARCH

We hunted a boy lost on the frozen lake.
While sunlight flattened and turned blue,
Marshgrass in rattling tussocks nosed the ice
Like giant muskrats whickering in their fur.
Numb in the wind and slipshod, we crossed over
Inlets and narrows, skirted the open flaws
Where water, heaving, slid beside and below
A thin crust perched, like weather, on its back.

Cautious and slow at first, we carried boards,
Ladders and carpets like our own islands
To the crackling edges and lay down on them
As though we'd come to sleep till the spring thaws;
But the cold rose up and tightened at our brows,
And when we walked again, parting at random,
Each held his life more carelessly in his hands,
Seeing the hard clouds blacken and spill forward.

Nothing for miles was taller than a boy.
This is the ice, we said, and there's the world.
To break through one is not to find the other.
He would have leaped aside, we said. But wept.
By snow like wavecrests in the reeds, we stopped
And, cupping our ears, heard only our own breath
Drifting from mouth to forehead where it curled
And closed above us like the shrivelling day.

All night, we called aloud. What answered was
Ice, or the darkness dreaming its own echoes,
Or landlocked water ageing below our feet.
One aimed a flashlight at the sky, and the flakes fell
To the cone's unwavering tip like a whirlpool.
Another fired a flare; it burst and shot
Petals and starfish down to dazzle us,
And we were white on both shores of our eyes.

Before an ugly dawn, one fell to his knees,
Clumsy with love and stupor, watching his light
Skid to the water and go splashing downward.
Staring through suddenly translucent ice,
He saw his own shape frozen under glass
With snails and ribbonweed in a solid garden
And, from his thrusting palms, - the light flashed out -
Saw cracks like lightning break across his face.

Page 17

David Wagoner
THE FAMINE OF REASON

Though language glitter when we eat,
Like knives and forks, and all our wares -
Cut-flowers and gossip, gilded chairs,
The mannerly hoisting of our meat -
Confuse for a time our deeper wars;
Though posture stiffen our belief
That what surrounds us is ourselves,
And lip-stained gloves and napkins come
Between us and the taste of grief,
O love, once turning face to face
Past these embellishments of grace,
We shall become our ancestors:
Like them, dependent for our lives
Upon the corners of our mouths,
On that frank matter in the eye
That utters friend or enemy,
Like two beasts meeting in a tree

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE We hunted a boy lost on what is frozen lake. While sunlight flattened and turned blue, Marshgrass in rattling tussocks nosed what is ice Like giant muskrats whickering in their fur. Numb in what is wind and slipshod, we crossed over Inlets and narrows, skirted what is open flaws Where water, heaving, slid beside and below A thin crust perched, like weather, on its back. Cautious and slow at first, we carried boards, Ladders and carpets like our own islands To what is crackling edges and lay down on them As though we'd come to sleep till what is spring thaws; But what is cold rose up and tightened at our brows, And when we walked again, parting at random, Each held his life more carelessly in his hands, Seeing what is hard clouds blacken and spill forward. Nothing for miles was taller than a boy. This is what is ice, we said, and there's what is world. To break through one is not to find what is other. He would have leaped aside, we said. But wept. By snow like wavecrests in what is reeds, we stopped And, cupping our ears, heard only our own breath Drifting from mouth to forehead where it curled And closed above us like what is shrivelling day. All night, we called aloud. What answered was Ice, or what is darkness dreaming its own echoes, Or landlocked water ageing below our feet. One aimed a flashlight at what is sky, and what is flakes fell To what is cone's unwavering tip like a whirlpool. Another fired a flare; it burst and shot Petals and starfish down to dazzle us, And we were white on both shores of our eyes. Before an ugly dawn, one fell to his knees, Clumsy with what time is it and stupor, watching his light Skid to what is water and go splashing downward. Staring through suddenly translucent ice, He saw his own shape frozen under glass With snails and ribbonweed in a solid garden And, from his thrusting palms, - what is light flashed out - Saw cracks like lightning break across his face. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Poetry Northwest (1959) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 16 where is strong David Wagoner what is FIRST DAY OF A SEARCH where is p align="justify" We hunted a boy lost on what is frozen lake. While sunlight flattened and turned blue, Marshgrass in rattling tussocks nosed what is ice Like giant muskrats whickering in their fur. Numb in what is wind and slipshod, we crossed over Inlets and narrows, skirted what is open flaws Where water, heaving, slid beside and below A thin crust perched, like weather, on its back. Cautious and slow at first, we carried boards, Ladders and carpets like our own islands To what is crackling edges and lay down on them As though we'd come to sleep till what is spring thaws; But what is cold rose up and tightened at our brows, And when we walked again, parting at random, Each held his life more carelessly in his hands, Seeing what is hard clouds blacken and spill forward. Nothing for miles was taller than a boy. This is what is ice, we said, and there's what is world. To break through one is not to find what is other. He would have leaped aside, we said. But wept. By snow like wavecrests in what is reeds, we stopped And, cupping our ears, heard only our own breath Drifting from mouth to forehead where it curled And closed above us like what is shrivelling day. All night, we called aloud. What answered was Ice, or what is darkness dreaming its own echoes, Or landlocked water ageing below our feet. One aimed a flashlight at what is sky, and what is flakes fell To what is cone's unwavering tip like a whirlpool. Another fired a flare; it burst and shot Petals and starfish down to dazzle us, And we were white on both shores of our eyes. Before an ugly dawn, one fell to his knees, Clumsy with what time is it and stupor, watching his light Skid to what is water and go splashing downward. Staring through suddenly translucent ice, He saw his own shape frozen under glass With snails and ribbonweed in a solid garden And, from his thrusting palms, - what is light flashed out - Saw cracks like lightning break across his face. where is p align="left" Page 17 where is strong David Wagoner THE FAMINE OF REASON where is p align="justify" Though language glitter when we eat, Like knives and forks, and all our wares - Cut-flowers and gossip, gilded chairs, what is mannerly hoisting of our meat - Confuse for a time our deeper wars; Though posture stiffen our belief That what surrounds us is ourselves, And lip-stained gloves and napkins come Between us and what is taste of grief, O love, once turning face to face Past these embellishments of grace, We shall become our ancestors: Like them, dependent for our lives Upon what is corners of our mouths, On that frank matter in what is eye That utters friend or enemy, Like two beasts meeting in a tree where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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