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Tuesday, Sept. 25, 2012

MORE AND MORE

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I call it coreopsis, but it could be
candelabra. The wind is moaning
past an open beer bottle. If my hat
flies off, I’ll leave it where it falls. I’m tired
of picking up. The soft, greyed underside
of milkweed leaf, a field full of it, turns
itself upward toward the wind, toward the end
of something that my guess is never ends.
I like it down here on what we call earth.
Rhymes with birth and dearth, not to mention mirth.
Hardly worth mentioning. Well, yes, I do,
especially toward the slump of the afternoon
when  the poplar leaves shimmer at the least hint
that the air cares and the dragonflies stop
in mid-flight to glance at their watches.
They tell them it’s time, but not what for.
More and more, that’s the kind of score I keep.



Roger Mitchell’s new and selected, Lemon Peeled the Moment Before, came out from Ausable Press in 2008. The author of ten books of poetry, he has won the Midland Prize in poetry and the Akron Prize in poetry plus fellowships from the NEA, Lilly Foundation, Indiana Arts Commission, and New York Foundation for the Arts. He lives in way upstate New York with his wife, the fiction writer, Dorian Gossy.