Landscape with Jar
(after Wallace Stevens)
What vanishes more readily than the breakable
and transparent? Not here, not now, it says,
never voluble in the morning. I have work.
The horizon exists simply in perception.
Try to touch it – the hill meets the sky
only from afar, offering discordance
up close, no measurement possible.
And among the trees and vines, a glimmer
of spite, twisted open. Moving closer, we see
through. We see rocks, a bird. We see air.
“Landscape with Jar” was first published in Birch Gang Review in July 2017.
O at the Edges 
Robert, Your words both inspire and amaze.
Deb
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You are very kind, Deb. Thank you!
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You are very gifted!
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Thank you. I think persistent is more apt. 🙂
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Well that certainly helps.
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Try to touch the horizon? At least, capture the illusion. A photographer’s unrelenting quest, momentarily-appeased by those glimmers among leaves. This poem makes me want to grab camera and head out (quick!) before the perceived vanishes … meanwhile, you’ve nailed it in words!
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No matter how far you walk, it still remains out of reach. Annoying yet comforting.
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Like the epsilon of calculus
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Tho extremely annoying, calculus has never been comforting to me.
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beautiful!!
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You are always so kind, Nancie. Thank you.
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Excellent verse…
Mike
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Thanks very much, Mike.
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You deserve it…
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Is this jar in Tennessee, broken or otherwise arranged?
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This jar, like Davy Crockett, moved to Texas. But it was ” round upon the ground / and tall and of a port in air.” I would describe it as cracked and soiled, but otherwise intact. 😬
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A jar that gets about a bit. Bit like our garbage.
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Yes, exactly.
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What an interesting tangent of the landscape you draw, along a datum line of nature resplendent.
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Well, Stevens set the scene and I just played along. ☺️
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Well, you played it well.
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Beautifully put
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Thank you, Derrick.
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