Go then into the spare light of dawn,
Into the sparkling rime, from the long dream
Of yes and no, stand still as the falcon passes
Close behind and then in a rush of feathers
Embraces the crooked pole and its power line;

Go, believing in some destination, onto the shore
Where destination founders, where the smell
Of oil like the excrement of an army of great
Machines stifles breath, and all that is left
Is the desire that powered your dreams.

Go from the confusion of night, the grand
Opera of love and its pitiful leavings,
From the pale scream that announces
Entrance and exit, lungs expanding
Into the long legato of the last breath.

And from there into the loss which is your
Heritage, through the great insect chorus
Of hosanna into the house of your inheritance.
Brew a cup of tea, take it to the sunniest room,
And when God appears, demand an explanation.

The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry



Judith Harris

Afternoon Swim


Lance Larsen

the fuzzy and blurry insides of a living room, featuring a warm wood bookshelf filled in the upper shelves with books, a floor lamp, the top of a chair, and a wall with one large framed photo and three smaller framed photos.



Lia Purpura

double exposure of the top of a verdant green tree branching onto a pale blue sky, overlaid with a photo of five-petaled white flowers in a cluster on top.

Imagineer of Variety


John Terpstra

Pin It on Pinterest