SUBJECT>Re: Hush POSTER>geoff EMAIL>geoffleone@hotmail.com DATE>1108841592 IP_ADDRESS>uhall-backlab-242t.fdu.edu PASSWORD>aa3znsx.4y15U PREVIOUS>83598 NEXT> 83648 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

Re. Hush (with thanks to David Ayers)

For Jude Goodwin.

Let me say what a pleasure it is to follow your comments on others' poems. You nowhere believe that writing is quick and easy. Or a parlor game.

*

I am joying my way through Sandburg's "Chicago Poems," his first published volume and possibly his best. He was a slow learner however.

This piece is all of a parallel with his work. It might be cut in half without loss. In fact... But Sandburg rang the changes on this style in the Twenties and its calculated innocence is passe.

What ever happened to whalebone corsets? The Bloomer Girl?

Best,

Geoff

*

: Moon is a woman.
: The baby holds her string,
: a balloon,
: jerking through black trees,
: Congratulations! spins and jumps.
: The deep sky and stars are creased paper,
: lining a cedar drawer,
: her white hands caress the knits within,
: fold and fold.
: The road, a grey bow,
: turns and knots around us.
: The night is a gift,
: its moon is a woman, punched.
: Clutching herself,
: she scuttles alongside our truck,
: holding her womb while
: inside the baby sleeps
: and the black trees repeat
: across her face.
: The deep sky and stars
: are the turning of a plate,
: the high hum of the wheels
: sing, her white hands
: stroke and stroke
: and the baby
: sleeps.