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Shearsman 61 |
Anthony Hawley
4 Poems from 'Afield' |
Borders order but little flung rocks
splay stenciled space good graphed
routes running opposite fjord they
swerve and wend now a wadis now a vacant
imprint we follow fallow skulk and
shoosh steps entrenched in etched
earth each incident of our
travel wiped clean weather too
raked away with every next hour
Forth we clutch hurry across
drizzle draping day foxglove ox-
tongue patch of nettles into
enclave between linger there
curtain of weather will lift
bejeweled the soaked field say
reenter we bundle up steer
through fog this thick could
eat whole heards
Field flickers faint glowworm’s signal
dogwood timber’s lit turned on
star-studded we crawl and cower
through spangled grass fugitive flash
canopied watch flies fringe our every
odd move a neighboring flare
methinks zig
zag makes fast get
away growls then goes
rumble the sky
buckles yields lots
shivering
white riddles
an egg
shell of a
sky every
few seconds it
cracks the fragile
copyright © Anthony Hawley, 2004.
Anthony Hawley is the author of two chapbooks of poetry, AFIELD (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2004) and Vocative (Phylum Press, 2004). His poems have appeared in a number of magazines including The New Republic, The Paris Review, Denver Quarterly, Slope, and Volt. He was educated at Columbia University and is an editor at Fence magazine.
