11.11.2007

a new poem

STILL LIFE


 


 

A stray shallot

rotted down

to its own papery

peels,

something culled

from Caravaggio:

Boy with a Basket

of Fruit.


 

One    flat    rock.


 

Surgical staples.


 

Our last surviving

wine glass, crusted

with Black Box

cabernet sauvignon.


 

One potted tiger lily.


 

The extra seeds

from our spring garden:

green beans

serrano peppers

cucumbers and cilantro.


 

The missing pieces

for the board games

Diplomacy and Risk.


 

1 comment:

Tim said...

The natural object is always the adequate symbol.

But this matter-of-factness strikes me as not-at-all Poundian and less Williams (although there's a touch of Spring and All) and more like Reznikoff or Rakosi.

This is a nice voice for you. Is a Caravaggio-themed chapbook in the works? Anything to say about Judith and Holofernes?