Friday, September 7, 2012

Impress me, she said

Who knows what will impress you?

a massive building shining

implacable in the sun?

Something soft and furry, perhaps

or a diamond, or a war.

I could conjure one, with plenty of death

and heartache-- or speak of love instead--

how one afternoon, for hours

I gazed at the myriad expressions

on a lovely face.

Perhaps money impresses you

or, an original Warhol

or furniture, or the glint of gold on your wrist.


I don’t know. I’m impressed myself

with the desert silence, a cloud

the freedom of animals,

the daily poems in growing grass,

the patient trees. What impresses me

is the savage push and pull of the sea

the ancient shine of stars,

the lonely position we hold, suspended

swimming with life,

shouting into the sky.

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