Friday, July 11

ORFEO (excerpt)

I created more loss where I meant to make less.
Created more debt where I meant to make depth.
Created more death. Mind is
the subject of the mind, but the poem becomes a
flower or a tree. Ask the wind. Ask
the wind that wrote this poem. Cirrus scarf
blowing through the endless blue its song
about a neck, a pulse, the inner gem, that stone.
Ask the wind that curls around the house’s eaves
with a moan. Erotic or—. Forlorn—.
It’s hard to know. It’s hard to know the difference
between Echo & Narcissus. You say the words
you say but you know—. They’ve already been said—.
Your mouth’s diamond mine. Filled with coal.

(Dan Beachy-Quick)