Poetry
Four
and if you could get the proportions right
the world would look real
the purples close by
the mountain ridges softening the landscape
and in between the wind-blown vineyard
lines of wind-breaking cypress
silver brown olive trees
looking long and plainly you’ll imagine
there are other mountains over there today you’ll discover a valley or two
seeing something new
riot and rest
orange blossoms and white
and underground and in the sky
what you can’t know or be stopped by
no thought is worth this
why have ideas of worth when
all’s equal under the sun
I wanted the meter maid to like me
so she wouldn't give me a ticket
which is like totally insane
standing by the water fountain I said to myself
I'll always remember this so I can
remember what fourth grade feels like
but all I remember is
standing by the water fountain
saying that to myself
dreamt I was lorine niedecker
walking home from the hospital
the sky was whitish grey
noticing
weed and branch
along the way
in church I wore a pill box hat
carried a modest purse
saw every bit of life there advance
I dreamt I was an armadillo
radiant and plain
wilhelm reich would’ve said
I was armored
he was insane
I read elizabeth bishop –
a weak mailed fist
clenched ignorant against the sky —
clearly she knew the armadillo
was helpless as the wind / that dies
against the why
Contributor
Ruth LepsonRuth Lepson has been the poet-in-residence at the New England Conservatory of Music for 20 years. Her new book is ask anyone, from Pressed Wafer, with musical setting available (soon) on the PW website. She's been collaborating with musicians for some years now and will be making an album this spring with Noah Preminger, Frank Carlberg, and Simon Willson.