Catches the many ambiguities felt, Max, neatly.
Doug
On Dec 17, 2014, at 2:55 PM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Winter Stranger
>
> Where are the snows of last week-end?
> The sun shines on that distant range
> without diminishing its glory.
>
> Shadows cluster round the dreck
> that didn’t melt away when sidewalks
> dried - gutters stay ice-clogged.
>
> Sun each day promises warmth yet
> bright morning fades, noon’s not high,
> afternoon short, sunset early, dark.
>
> The homeless, pitched in their camp
> near the freeway din by the iced
> slope the weather beats on, lie low.
>
> The length of our most genteel street
> is traversed by its evening traffic -
> dogs with their humans, those who work late.
>
> Under a light a young couple grapples
> in slow motion, not going anywhere
> but signaling Soon we must part.
>
> To our surprise, there looms a great
> lumbering heavy-laden tramp,
> as if just back from Siberia.
>
> A dark bedroll makes him seven feet
> tall, other clobber rounds him out.
> He’s used to this, year round, but winter?
>
> My dog bristles - I take a sharp
> detour. Our eyes don’t meet. Would
> he expect something from me? ‘Good-day’?
>
> ‘Have a good evening’? Charity?
> Proof he doesn’t scare me? (I wouldn’t
> call police - Salvation Army, maybe.)
>
> He may or may not know where he’ll
> unroll his pack and lie down tonight.
> Dog and I suffer no such doubt.
>
> He sees our houses’ bright lit trees, porches
> and windows, some hung with red stockings.
> Keep the children from view while he passes -
>
> you wouldn’t want them to see him.
> He has nothing for them in his sack.
> You mightn’t want him to see them.
>
> One last glimpse - our formidable
> stranger mid-street stooping as if
> for something dropped there, edible.
>
> Max Richards
> Seattle, December 2014
Douglas Barbour
[log in to unmask]
Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
that we are only
as we find out we are
Charles Olson
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