Friday, September 27, 2013

Glimmering Brim Against Light Lifting There

As soon as I remembered Mark Rothko's birthday I knew I'd spend the next two days listening to Morton Feldman. I mentioned in the Shostakovich birthday post that I don't do my Sillyass Deserted Island Five game with non-rock composers but if I did Shostakovich would have one of the permanent spots. So would Morton Feldman.


Forrest  Gander

Against the backdark, bright
                              riband flickers of heat lightning.    Nearer
                hills begin to show, to come clear
                                                             as a hard, detached
                                                                                            and glimmering brim
                                             against light lifting there.    And here, pitched over
the braided arroyo choked with debris,
                                                             a tent, its wan, cakey,
                                road-rur color.    On the front stake, two
                green dragonflies, riding each other, pause,
                                             Look! cries the boy, running, the father behind him
                                 running too—
                                                               and the canyon opening
                out in front of them its magisterial consequence, cramming
                               vertiginous air down its throat—
                                                                                           to snatch him
                                                                    from the scarp.