Spring 1981 • Vol. III No. 2 Poetry |

The Imagined Garden

1 The place where we are standing Was walled and gardened. Hard, pitted soil contains a tidy memory of roots, And ruined brick reverts to its constituent clay. Between us is a humming vacancy Filled with strange ghosts. Julia, we are informed the earth is spoiled. There is no perfect place or moment, But devastation we defend With threatened devastation. Wounding is buried in this earth That defies fondness. An ancient Adam sin Renews itself with every evening. We are cut off from land and from each other. What we might plant would draw into its leaves The poisons, murders, anger. Let it go. Let it go wild again. But then there is no reach That joins us or makes coupling fruitful. The heart must turn and cleave. No tenderness exists apart from what is orderly, And order in its turn threatens all peacefulness With regiments. With trials and executions. Failing to plant, we will imagine, then. Begin again. 2 Stand in this ruined pl

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Dante in Exile

By Philip Schultz

1 The place where we are standing Was walled and gardened. Hard, pitted soil contains a tidy memory of roots, And ruined brick reverts to its constituent clay. Between us […]

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