He Knew No Boundary between Imagination and Possibility

I learned from ashes a night’s desire
As cold as a forgotten tern.

We came where we were beloved
Waiting for that fertile past to arise.

Here we turned back, revived atoms
and atonement, said, our home awaits us.

Our feet beside the gate, the open circle,
Our blessings mixed, we found ourselves reticent.

I think we came from Carson’s Beach, naked,
Castle Island in the distance.

Awed by my brother Thomas when he was a boy,
I saw the sun shown on the dog’s wet fur.

Our family felt lost, lived without grace,
Among drunks and oysters.

A good read Peter, though quite pessimistic for a beautiful spring day.

Les

yes, I hate it when I'm pessimistic on a beautiful day. I feel like I must be tuned in to the rwrong things. Thanks for visiting, Les.

Peter

I learned from ashes a night’s desire
As cold as a forgotten tern.

is my favorite part in an entirely fantastic poem.

Thanks Sherry,

This one was hard on me, since it required remembering the school psychologist's deciding my brother had no way to tell what he fantasized was not 'real.' The poetry of Wallace Stevens helped me recognize that 'real' was a relative and sometimes relatively meaningless term. Happy you came to visit.

amo,

Peter