Inquisition
1.
I breathe smoke
from the fire
warming our feet
Something is not right
but not wrong
yet
like the bones’ dance
on wires
in a bad dream
Fear’s sharp blade twists
burning with the slow
heat of coals
2.
I cannot read ashes
the message
of cracked stones in desert light
nor the poetry
of the cow’s skull
white on dark sand
What right has a man
And the snake’s
quivering tongue tasting
what the air brings to him
One of my earliest published pieces, this first appeared in Taurus, in 1984. Curiously, this is not the piece that I remembered having been published in Taurus. I wonder if that poem still exists somewhere? Such is memory…
O at the Edges 
Powerful. Especially
“Something is not right
but not wrong
yet.”
Exactly.
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Thanks, Cate. Vague feelings of unease have a way of turning into poems…
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Wonderful, Robert, ominous and mysterious, placing man into the larger context of nature and life and all we don’t understand.
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It helps to get the occasional reminder that we’re just one part of a whole.
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Reblogged this on mondozeitgeist.
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Thanks for reblogging!
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I like this Robert, especially the first part; then the second appears and engages me and I find that I am unable to leave it alone. 1984; that is the year my wife Aiko and I moved from Minneapolis to Seattle, a momentous move.
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I’m humbled and pleased that the poem pesters you in that way. 1984 was a landmark year for me, as well.
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Beautiful poem! Love the simple form and the depth of the images!
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Thanks for your kind words.
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Beautiful, in rhythm and imagery.
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Thank you.
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Beautiful is such an overused word. I should have said graceful, and gorgeous.
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You are too kind. Thank you, again!
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One commentator said powerful, couldn´t agree with that man more.
Good to be reading you back again sir!
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Thanks, Charly. Glad you’re back!
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Glad to be back robert
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Forgot.
Did you say published in 1984? Quite one of the masters you are of this art
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I was a little younger and thinner then, and my hair was much longer… 🙂 And thanks, as always, for your kind comments.
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ha ha, seems then I´m not alone when it gets to aging…..
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Such is memory, indeed. I shall remember this poem, Robert. Thank you.
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Thank you, Ann.
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