Miscellany
And because memory does not fall away as plainly
as we want,
because it breathes, caught in a surge of water, it nets together:
copper dish, lumber yard, green glass jar. Three men caught
too, their hair a big whoop in the air, red as iron rust.
Emma Gorenberg is a lovely horsewoman and a friend of mine from the Vineyard. And today she is the poetry angel, unexpected because I did not know that she is also a brilliant writer.
What a lovely gift to check in on your blog today and find this! It makes me feel like my creative life is not so far from me after all, even though the free hours to pursue it seem few and far between these days. Wishing you well in your own art! -E
(P.S. Narrative is wonderful about keeping their registration free, if you hadn’t seen the rest of the poem yet!)
Your writing is so startling, so exhilarating – more please!!!