from “Beds” in Can I Finish, Please? by Catherine Bowman
These lines float like a haiku in the onrush of lines…
you are enskied
in the mockingbird’s
indwelling song
See what I mean by tumble…
you are enskied
in the mockingbird’s
indwelling songas it concocts
a soporific
of wolves apples,and aftershave,
gossip and flattery
and all the dailycontradictions,
salty and unmelodious—
this scent bottle,clouds of cosmos,
mallow and iris
and marigold—[and so on]
[and so on]
[and so on]
“Enskied” and “indwelling” harken to Hopkins but the riot of flowers lead elsewhere, to Chaucer, perhaps…
And so for day 2152
03.11.2012