Spring 1963 • Vol. XXV No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 1963 |

Along the Volcano

David Galler ALONG THE VOLCANO For Klaus Fluegge Liking to dream the mountain lives, We suspect that, whether it has or not The past five hundred years, will have Or not in double that to come, We would be here. Hard by the base, A patched-up shack, victim of wind Despite what rumors say, houses Our drafting tables; pulleys, chains Hoist our gear to the rim; down The crater we've chiseled a flight of stairs, Down to the jagged floor. Day in, Day out, delicate samples taken, Quantitatives and seismographic Counts, an urchin belabored, and frankly- Little more. Hours spent With our compasses on stools, frankly We're glad to stretch our legs, bundle And climb back to the crater's rim, Pace in the wind beneath the moon Till black glass blinds us; then, to the village Where they watch us, buying the old Men drinks for the hundredth time, who tell Women they've loved like cards, in snow, On stairs, or under a tropic palm, Until we yawn good night . . . We have lain Drunk in our hammocks,

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David Galler ALONG THE VOLCANO For Klaus Fluegge Liking to dream the mountain lives, We suspect that, whether it has or not The past five hundred years, will have Or […]

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