Poem – The Mess (By Henryk Baranski)

The Mess

 

EASY FORM FOR QUICKNESS AND DRIVES

LIES EARLY ON THE FORM OF NEW SCHEDULES

WORN AND RIPPED BY STYLE AND CONDIMENTS

ALL FLYING WITH THE VIGOUR OF THE EARTH AND TIDES

REACHING OVER CLIFFS AND GRASS

TO REACH NEW HEAVENS.

 

LAND-LOCKED SQUARES AND EASY PIECES

FORM PAPER-CLAD BEAUTIES RIDDLED WITH SALT

NOW DRYING SLOWLY

DYING REMOTELY

AND CLINGING ALL OILY

TO THE ROOTS NOW DISHEVELLED, UNKEMPT

UNRAZORED FRAGMENTS IN THE BARBER’S BIN.

 

BUT HOLD STILL AND ONE MIGHT SEE

ANOTHER WORLD ALL SALT-FREE

AND TUGGING AT THE WILTING FLOWERS

THE DROOPING BUDS AND BROWNING LEAVES

WITH FLOWS AND FALLS OF RUSHING WATER

AND ROCKS AND PEBBLES SOFTLY SHAPED AND CARED FOR

SHOWING SPLENDID STYLE AND SHARP-PRESSED CUTS

AND SPOT-CLEAR MAPPING OF ANGELS’ TREADS.

 

[su_henryk_baranski]