The river that’s flowing before me now
Pretends to understand its lonely brother Styx.
It is October time, a time of myths
And stranger maths
Than summers know
Or passing springs can bring to sum.
The leaves surrender to a gathered text of sticks
Retailed for fuel and some
Forgotten task that lazes on the banks,
Awaiting frost’s soliloquy of spears and blades.
My whining spill of spooling line
Upsets a loon —
It glides and banks
A wake upon the distant shore.
Old grandsire Proteus appears at last, a blaze
Who builds his kindle, sure
Enough, from limb and branch of weeping pines.
The shivering fish that shake away my hook reform
Beneath the surface. Scaled with dusk,
They catch the disc
Of moon that spins and pines
For autumn’s tomb. A china plate
That shatters trees and stars, this lunar form
Resolves to hold the plait
Of Pitys’ hair the way that Pan had sighed
To grasp her battered body Boreas had thrown
In lust. So raw, his breath
Now fits its breadth
Along the side
Of evening’s flesh. Its chill now combs
My fire. I edge myself against this flaming throne
As ancient winter comes
To claim my blood as corporation sole.
The world’s collateral is not enough and preys
Upon my wasted groin.
(What god will groan
To claim my soul?)
With empty cup in hand, I wait
Between the river’s deep and castle keep. Each prays
To lift this golden weight.
Holy Moly this is good. There are many times when reading your stuff that I say, Okay this is his best yet. But this one really is your best yet. Stupendous wordplay, and that ending is more beautiful than everything before it, which is ideal for an ending.
And I still can’t figure out what “corporation sole” means.
Where’s your damn book?!
Quin,
Thanks a bunch. Glad you like it.
For CS: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporation_sole
Also, yes, the book. Ars longa and all that… (in the more humble understanding of that expression!)
I’m going to try to find time perhaps during Advent… ?
JOB
JOB,
Thanks … I was going to look it up, and would have before a second read, but sometimes it’s more fun to just toss up your hands and admit ignorance.
So: “to claim my blood as corporation sole”, as against that blood’s true or at least tenable status as “corporation aggregate”, or as specifically “it’s” (ancient winter’s) corporation sole as opposed to a god who _would_ claim your soul, groaning as he did so?
Fascinating. That does seem to be the crux of the matter.
Truly a marvelous poem.
Crux. Heh.
JOB
Agreed.
Is there a reference to Frost’s November in this poem with the frost and the maths?
I had a tremendous holiday and now have cars circulating me and planes at home too but while I can still afford the broadband I will try to remember to log onto your site occasionally and read your poems and other things.
I had a tremendous holiday and now have cars circulating me and planes at home too but while I can still afford the broadband I will try to remember to log onto your site occasionally and read your poems and other things. I was kicked off the other website I used to log onto and was unable to pass the test to rejoin.
Louis,
You’re welcomed here any time, of course!
Thanks for reading!
JOB
This is a mighty fine poem. But I can’t believe I came here two days post-election and the Kollektiv’s got nuttin.
Done.
JOB
Dang. You rural folk are good at words.