The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Hiram Larew


Here are the facts as I know them--
The feet you hate are the feet you get
So be it amen

And so be the case
That every silly stitch of what you need
Doesn't need you
Not the shiny pennies in grass
Surely not that heave ho over to there
And not even someone smeary
In fact too much of you is others

It's also hard to yell and cook
        at the same time
But it's done the world over
By lightning by witches by love

That's enough of this for now
Except to say that
The end smells
Just like the beginning
Here--take a sniff.


I want to marry this field
Truly and simply
With its wings curving the corners
And its smoothness stunning my knees
My heart is here far around me
And there's humming and leaning--
Even the trifling breeze

I want this field for my living
To vow to its edges
That nothing comes true
Without greening
Nothing seems bold as my longings
Except sloping
Nothing wakes on my shoulder
But rustling
I hope the strangest hopes in this field
Ever bending

From here
I know that this much of my all is clear--
Before there were hills
Or even eyes to up over
There was a distance beyond us
A long far away that can never be near
There was wishing

I want to carry this field
In my arms
By its being and dust
To a maybe that's certain
So that our future flickers on grasses
And our children wave from the clouds.

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