Friday, October 28, 2011

Poem by Mebane Robertson

This Stupid Dig

I've been out here out on the summer working the same map --
The topology of tribes, beads, bribes, and brides.
It was adequate, where I went and first ran into in a class
My truest love, granddaughter of the joint head of staff

Dab in the middle of Nam.  I bought her a ring of blue pearl
With a tinny little diamond set center.  Even though that's all history,
If you ever see this in a conspiracy documentary, please
You meant more than St. Charles Street to me.  But she's fazed,

Another face laid in memory.  Should we fronting all this to go on?
The pairings, and vintages that show rare spices had been imported.
Black labs with their wild pink tongues, the site overseer walked
Between the twine that was my love's pirouette and the laudatory

Trading of fourths the band took to please the challenged visitors.
Ho.  I'm getting this wrong.  The dogs were when we were in an undisclosed
Location.   I guess I'm writing to please a friend away.
Someone unlike me who prefer morse to ouija.

And pearly late October skies.  Things live (and die) by schedule, at least
In the looking back.  I have been given some gifts by friends I love.
And I have been given likewise by enemies far, I thought, in the offing.
And I fold my hand sometimes, and ask that this be good, goofy enough.

thanks to Mebane for this poem. Read more by the same author here. 

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