Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
what does the well water know?
That holy summit,
or how the storm will weather?
the well water remembers
what the raw material was.

It remembers how the grand orators
broke the language,
retooled the rhythms,
unshackled lungs from servitude.

How they tore the night
with tongue and lyric,
and poetry, and poetry.

It remember black bear jaw,
sun swallowed mountain
river stones, gristle of bark of birch.
The name of the wind and
his deftly sewn leaves

It remember the genesis
of the mothers' milk,
and the manhood.
This is the young country.

And us all pitching coins.
Work In Progress. Just kind of riffing.
Written by
Jory  Chicago
Please log in to view and add comments on poems