Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Poem

The diaphanous fish
whirls its skittish eyes
from bank
to floor
to glittering sky.
It does not utter secrets to hands:
hands that plunge and grasp,
hands that divide, flay, or provoke
clouds of silt from riverbed.
Yet the body of the stream regards
the body of the fish:
fan gills, dorsal sail, fluttering wily tail.
The current ever perceives the miracle,
releasing its grip
endlessly becoming new forms, of root, creature, stone, vapor,
widening to glorious estuary, sea,
(and as if vaporized by epiphany)
the sky.


[This is a rough draft. Feedback/criticism is welcome!]

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Garrett, I love it, but I am going to have to digest and then get back to you for feedback :) reminds me of writers workshop (ahh those were the times!)

lovely you said...

Oh man! Mary Oliver wishes she wrote that poem. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you, Garrett.