Wednesday, February 19, 2014

NEW! Two poems by George Elklund

George Elklund

Two poems


To endure the severe currents 
Trapped in the brain
One needs a strange bird call 

That comes only in sleep.
The mind wants to begin again in dark berries 
But finds it difficult to un-know itself.
It takes a large poisonous bug
To keep my creature in its cage.

How far from your mind is the sea?
My mother cannot find rest anywhere.
I begin to collect parables of sand
And coins that once were Spanish.
The mind makes its phone calls to no one; 

The orbit of the gray matter
Is difficult to escape.
My daughter made a dinosaur
Out of paper and tape.
The crows in their long history
Know the echo of an opera not yet written 

And the bleeding mechanism
On the new Pope’s head. 


If the hands dehydrate
Something must have happened 

In the dream of the mind.
O sacred head surrounded
By the crowns of rivers
And the loam of the dead
The silt of time
The ecclesiastical flow
Of the eddy pools
Where my brother liked to fish. 

Tom, I like to imagine
You will come for me
And we might find ourselves
On a sunny incline
Overlooking the bay of stars 

Crashed upon the waters.
What is the history of a nerve 

What is the future of a nerve
We are given such sacred material 

In these vaporized remains 
Perhaps you could remember
A tree or a breast
And begin again. 

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