Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Noach

Noach 10/20/09

Non-Pronoun promises,
flips his flawlessly bent bow
so it scrapes the clouds,

“Let it be a sign,
never again
will waters burst,
my arrow’s now
arched upward—
toward infinity.

Leave your gopher-wood womb.

Come, cultivate this moist, green
vineyard,” (this afternoon mirage).

The first, last righteous one,
Too drenched in blessings,
Finally reveals himself in that
Tent of rotting yesteryear,
Funerary,
Like first fruit—
Or stolen fire.

-Andrés Amitai Wilson

2 comments:

  1. A Covenant forsaken -
    our father?
    He who - on the cutting edge of failure,
    saw the sky fall down, and needed a drink..
    or he who strung us like a bow, between
    volition and surrender?

    ReplyDelete
  2. build it big, they said;
    the last old wood for pitched walls
    and deep straw within.

    ReplyDelete