my grandmother Josephine (standing) and her sister, Mendocino, Italy
my ancestors surround me
like walls of a canyon
quiet
stone hard
their ideas drift over me
like breezes at sunset
we gather sticks
and make settlements
what we do is only partly
our own
and partly continuation
down through the chromosomes
my son
my baby sleeps behind me
stirring in the night
for the touch
that lets him continue
he is arranging
in his small form the furniture
and windows of his home
it will be a lot like mine
it will be a lot like theirs
Harvey Ellis from Sleep not Sleep
**I realize that I'm supposed to get permission to reprint poetry, but I haven't. I hope that I am spreading its worth, though, by posting it on my humble blog. If it bothers you, please ask and I will remove.
Love it.
ReplyDeleteNo writer who loves the word should ever be offended when someone quotes them and gives them credit for their work without monetary profit as the intent.
ReplyDeleteEver since the first day I had a computer way back in 1984 I learned from others who love poetry about poets I never heard of before. The NYT, The New Yorker, and some of the obscure poetry journals all self published and thus difficult to find, were the only source and often somehow, managed to print similar works. Many poets can thank people like you for my having searched their work, spread the word and bought their books later on.
Yes it bothers me. Not that you share the poetry without permission but that someone would find fault with this.
Such a sweet picture of your grandmother and her sister. One can see how close they are.
ReplyDeleteI can feel that air in the canyon .... it's feels so different from the air up top .... warm and dry and sweet with pockets of coolness
ReplyDeleteWho would ever want that removed?
ReplyDeleteJosephine is my sweet grand-daughter's name, as I know that you already know.
Love Renee xoxo
Well , I love it when I come across my poetry on other sites.
ReplyDeleteOkay, I loved this . My in-laws just returned from their 6 month stay in their home in the Abruzzi region of Italy. They divide their time between the old country and the new.
This photo has that familiar feeling.
I just realized that I deleted the winky face thingy after my poetry comment, but didn't replace it with anything. The fact that anyone reads my ramblings still leaves me breathless so I was obviously joking.
ReplyDelete