SELF-DOUBT
The sky cracks along
a branch of sycamore: its fault.
The sidewalk, split in jigsaw-
puzzle pieces by the roots,
lifts, oblique to itself.
The foreground--leaves and bark--
collapses like a sinkhole
while the sky's crazed blue
bulges like heavy crockery.
Everything seems to have two
sides. I could be wrong.
:: Joan Larkin, A Long Sound (1986)
RJ Gibson | white noise :: something
4 hours ago
1 comment:
Isn't her work beautiful? I have her new and selected poems. I think I especially love her book "Cold River". Those are some intense, stunning poems.
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