Friday, February 20, 2009

Poem for Rexroth's Daughter (please comment)

I'd been talking to Rexroth's daughter;
she's a friend of a friend of mine.
She said she saw me
way out in the far north west
reciting poems to the sea
where poems find their rest.
She saw a stormy headland
only a few stones high
but far it reached into the storm,
big waves playing with the sky.
From ancient graves the wind it blew
voices of sailors gone
and women screamed like gulls
an endless magic song…….
Above the clouds the snowy peaks
gave ‘Psyche!’ as the toast
and kneeling at her crystal font
uisge fuar  slaked our throats.
So from that empty corrie
was birthed a trickling song
which breathless through the forest
danced with me along.
She asked, ‘What were your poems,
intoned to the waves?’
But all that I could answer was,
‘Completely blown away.’
Gaelic:  uisge fuar  - water cold  uisge beatha - water of life - whisky
Greg Brown’s Rexroth’s Daughter poem