the distant city
doesn’t call her
she can’t see the
naked cornfields on either side
but feels their bare expectancy
this hurtling through ink
feels like flying
flights of fancy, anyway
with such an inscrutable sky
she could be headed anywhere
anywhere, anywhere
anywhere at all
the distant city
doesn’t call her
but it gets her
for today
doesn’t call her
she can’t see the
naked cornfields on either side
but feels their bare expectancy
this hurtling through ink
feels like flying
flights of fancy, anyway
with such an inscrutable sky
she could be headed anywhere
anywhere, anywhere
anywhere at all
the distant city
doesn’t call her
but it gets her
for today
Ooohhh ... are you off to the city? Is that one of your poems? I like it...! It has a Carl Sandburg feel to it. Very good.
ReplyDeleteI am just playing catchup with my favorite blogs, and I enjoyed seeing you in your Halloween costume.
I like this. The bare expectancy, the inscrutable sky... Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteYes, this was me driving to work this morning. I live about 35 miles from Cincinnati & now that it's fall my morning commute is in the dark (at least until Monday after the time changes).
ReplyDeleteIt's funny The Bug, I'm often so blunt that poetry and eye rarely cross paths. I tend towards very blunt poetry too, like Emily Dickinson. This has the same flavor as some of Dickinson's work :-) I like it.
ReplyDeleteOf course, since I'm really a rather earthy sort of soul, I couldn't help but throw in, "Oh, Bug's going to be Town Mouse!"
But then I think we've established that I'm a little peculiar ;-) Thank you for sharing the poem!
Weird, that use of "eye" was purely unintentional, but oddly fitting.
ReplyDeleteBehold, the power of coffee!
sad but hopeful
ReplyDeletelovely
calling
that would be the worst for me, to have to commute in the dark.
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain... I used to do the drive from Middletown to Yellow Spings every day!
ReplyDeleteThe distant city seems even more distant when it's dark and when it's about going to work and not coming from work.
ReplyDeleteAnd as for commuting, once the dream was to own a car, nowadays the dream is to have a driver.
Very cool Bug! Happy Halloween to you. :D
ReplyDeleteWow. I like this. I have felt this way.
ReplyDeleteI love poems like this, not a wasted word anywhere, just a deft ink-drawing of a piece. With a few strokes you've painted us a rich picture.
ReplyDeleteWhen Linda and I were in the City for my latest round of chemo we thought of you.
ReplyDeleteWe thought of you because the hospital had erected a huge banner across the atrium that read "The Bug Is Here"!
And we thought, she is? That's great we'd love to meet her. How nice of them to let us know.
But, sadly, it wasn't you, they were warning us about H1N1!
Argent - once I got an A on a paper in seminary where the professor told me that he was dismayed that it was only three pages long - but he said that I said everything I needed to in those three pages.
ReplyDeleteBarry - oh I laughed out loud! That is so funny - but I'm pretty sure I'm not H1N1. Although I'm being pretty piggy with all the Halloween candy around...
This is fabulous! wow!!
ReplyDeleteI love this, your short lines build expectancy and break in a perfect place. I love that word..so much expectancy in the bare cornfields..the bare city..wonderful!
ReplyDelete