I’m reading Paul Zweig. This is the eleventh poem of the first section of his Selected and Last Poems, followed by my response. (I’m planning to skip the twelfth and last poem in that section, and move on the second section from here.) See this post for details.
Self and Soul
by Paul Zweig
The dwarf tears at his clothes
To greet the quietness.
He nudges me to show him what I write . . .
[Remainder of poem removed 9-05-05]
* * * *
Scarecrow & Farmer
Right at dusk, as always,
I overhear myself: a drone note
audible in the lull
between shifts of crickets.
Darkness rises from the ground
between the corn stalks,
which are anything but still.
I step deliberately, one season
on each foot. Today left a crust
of salt around my collar,
lifted now by a passing breath
of wings. I don’t look up.
Four quick cries & a pause,
then two more: Estiquirín.
The hoe handle digs
a furrow in my shoulder
while above me, outlined against the stars,
the one wearing my old clothes
shivers under his straw,
his cross of sticks.
__________
“Estiquirín Great Horned Owl; a spirit in the form of a Great Horned Owl (onomatopoeic)” – Glossary, Seven Names for the Bellbird: Conservation Geography in Honduras, by Mark Bonta
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Them bones
- The pure distance
- Owed
- Becoming grass
- Fuel
- The fears and pleasures
- Written by the vanquished
- Waiting for the detonation
- Green plague
- That great invention
- To greet the quietness
- Advancing into sleepless woods
- How else?
- What remains
- My life as a landlubber
- Perfect night
- Above the ears, below the waist
- In lieu of listening
- Black stone, yellow field
- City of changes
- The fresh chance
- Greek
- Too much
- A beach in hell
- When it breaks
- The burden of becoming human
- Want
- In slough time
- Sacrifice
- Restoring the words
- String theories
- Parcels of pure voice
- An undulant map
- Stone-blue winter
- Foreign matter
- Wake
- Exodus
- Always present
- A sown darkness
- Night
- Woods and water
- Fish tales