This poem originally appeared in Grasslands Review #13 way back in 1995. I thought I'd put it up since I believe that literary journal is now defunct.
After the Flood
A waterlogged breath from a dry tongue
There are no tents in distant lands
or gods rising from chiseled wombs
like there is no smoke rising on the horizon
where wet sticks sulk
current-beaten among the bulk of weeds,
leaves, branches and bodies. No footsteps
but these of sixteen feet stepping from wooden planks
and another, neither stranger nor Father,
stalking among the sun-fasted faces.
This figure, shadow casting shadow,
moves among the vines of the vineyard,
enters the tent in which he already waits.
His eyes gaze across his own contours,
staring, in any land, with foreignless features.
2 comments:
Nope, not defunct, but moving (is Grasslands Review). But you can always put your work anywhere you please *after* it's in Grasslands since the authors always keep the rights. Plans are to put out one more issue in Ohio and then the journal (but not the editor) moves to Indiana for 2007.
For fall 2006 submissions, please send to Grasslands Review, Managing Editor at Dept. of English, Indiana State University, Terre Haute, IN 47809. And thanks for the mention and the reminder that here's another way to get the word out.
Glad to hear Grasslands Review is still up and running. Do you have a website?
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