Winter 1990 • Vol. XII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1990 |

Glendower Ponders the Vasty Deep

"I can call spirits …" Henry IV, Part I If this wind in here would     just lie down, these sounds      like the clatter of cattle      on a bridge     could die down too.    Is there a quick ocean somewhere,  each ripple a labial lapping the shore? There would I be.   There would I dwell. For       in here on the highways,     there's been a break in    the action. In here,   the Fords fly by, the conglomerates       fume on the rank horizon, the sun goeth down. Amen to the sun.     Amen to the coil          and climb of days come down. Long     gone is the horse I rode in on. It is not like you          cannot see yourself, fists      in the air, Fords flying     by, not like you do not hear yourself, hear          a voice that could be       only you, though

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