The Evening is Tranquil, and Dawn is a Thousand Miles Away
by Charles Wright
The mares go down for their evening feed
into the meadow grass.
Two pine trees sway the invisible wind—
some sway, some don't sway.
The heart of the world lies open, leached and ticking with sunlight
For just a minute or so.
The mares have their heads on the ground,
the trees have their heads on the blue sky.
Two ravens circle and twist.
On the borders of heaven, the river flows clear a bit longer
The Ghost of Walter Benjamin Walks at Midnight
by Charles Wright
The world's an untranslatable language
without words or parts of speech.
It's a language of objects
Our tongues can't master,
but which we are the ardent subjects of.
If tree is tree in English,
and albero in Italian,
That's as close as we can come
To divinity, the language that circles the earth
and which we'll never speak.
31 words * prose poems
by evie shockley
[#12]
Highly visual rural winter image seeks lyric poem (4-30 lines) for mutual
enrichment and long-term relationship. Image offers frostbitten river and
fog-covered fields where snow seems to rise toward its origins.
