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Salt
The highway’s tar
has been bleached by
a winter’s worth of salt,
and in the mid-day sun
it almost shines. I squint
at the shapes on the shoulder—
here the humped corpse
of some salt-lover, there
a fetal curl of flayed tire.
Poèmes sur le thème : highway
Poèmes sur le thème « highway » sur Poets.by.
Fawn In Headlights
You will never again be this alone or alive,
Near your mother lying dead in the breakdown lane,
And you in the travel lane, trying to stand on spindly legs,
A fawn among the speeding headlights, mystified.
How did you get here? who licked you clean?
Will you, too, be hit? If not, who’ll suckle you?
Will a highway crew or highway crows recycle you?
I cannot sleep for thinking of you.
Trial Run
I swing up the highway towards Accotane,
where a new brand of gas is to be named today.
The birds singing outside my window can't keep up
with the sound of a cassette in the darkened hallway.
Stars crash down against my windshield
at the rate of one per minute; many I don't see.
The head is splitting but I'm amnesiac;
each morning finds me in a different bed,
the same room, sheets a little duller brown.
The compulsion to meet my fate by collision
with a silver screen drives me on, selective
and uncertain, judging the curvature of the earth each moment
for a clue to the incidence of grit in my cornea.
A companion, more sensitive to the guttering drain
Provincetown to New York via Connecticut Turnpike, 3 A.M.
old moon rising in Leo
the bones of ten thousand kings
litter the highway.
when we walked by the sea
sand, green water, snow
on the dunes "what's the use of-"
your head now in my
lap, the car sways
through the Milky Way
I'm lying soaked on the earth
with the moon
around me, tickling
my fingers, circle within circle
everyone asleep, the hills
pass. I smoke, the jug
half-empty. at this moment
To Father
I walking on the railroad ties
I am on your legs sometimes
I am using your eyes
to see
The mussle shells cracked and jammed
Between the pilings
Father to see
Blackberry vines naked and rusty
Pushing up through concrete and
Around the fence posts
Enterweaving earth and sky father
Pushing back the city
With your legs and with your star eyes
With your hands of rock and moss
Laying her to seed in crimson sage
Again making her to seed the highway.
Eyes
O strange devices that alone divide
The seër from the seen--
The very highway of earth's pomp and pride
That lies between
The traveller and the cheating, sweet delight
Of where he longs to be,
But which, bound hand and foot, he, close on night,
Can only see.