Poetry Thursday: Jim Carroll

Prologue

Starting with little in mind
the best you might do is begin it
over and over again. transforming

the real earth to a texture, and strength
beyond control. I am thinking of a wave.

We sit, huddled in winter coats, transfixed
to the logic of stars collapsing. The fresh
gravity pulling at stones we grip.

Locked tightly to the seams of night,
the moon rears like a fenced stallion,
and, its rage subdued, turns back.

Then the hour is loose as the music,
a vapor passing through. It defies
each change. As the wind outdistances
each word spoken, and replies with
a promise already broken.

--Jim Carroll


[sky at VCCA, 2/22/12]