Monday, October 09, 2006


Blogger wasn't set up for creative line breaks, which is understandable, so it sent all of the lines in Brian's poem over to the left margin. But imagine the second or third one in each stanza drifted toward the middle, so they approximate snow settling in strata, building up and holding the quiet in ornate shapes. That's what he beautifully captures. So, if some of Tupelo's goons show up here at Mizzou looking for me, I'll tell them that I tried, and they might only leave me with a broken poesis, which isn't as painful as it sounds.

Missouri is starting to feel more right to live in, as the trees around here turn into ornate prisms, with one or two colors frozen in each leaf, and their shading is so frigging sublime that the two or three colors running together make them glow, like they're lit from within, and along the interstate they stretch for miles, each a different explosion of color, holding its own magic.

If you're ever by Fulton, MO, especially in the fall, drive ten miles out of town to Dixie Lake, or maybe it's Lake Dixie, because the trees along the banks there make waves and billows like clouds full of the colors of sunset, and they scatter into splinters in the wake the anglers leave on the water, but reform again, in steady lines on the silver surface. Their line breaks show the depth of the lake, and deepen it by contrast, which ain't so different from poems, maybe.


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