To be in any form, what is that?
on the rise beyond the barn. Another rise, another
which is a thickness, not a difficulty,
As notebooks full with pages
of historiesfamilies on rises with barns,
The girl moves gingerly about the kettle, both
What is a nearest neighbor? What is medicine?
the steam and the odor. Look in the kettle
It's cold now and evening, each day an increasing
down the mood, eating it shorter, forcing the steam
the hay flamed into tooth straw like flux.
reflects the moona dark flicker. Every fall
her fire and kettle (boil those cattails)
lacks any obvious utility
The shape seen from beyond the rise beyond the
appears to bond itself into a question, a scene
becomes extracted by this process?
From the farmhouse a light is lighting
thous and ands from the insects, a tangle
trying to beat the darkness back
of the father hurrying through a scuffle of chores
drifting out as she stirs the stew,
making only odor, warm, nocturnal, and feline.
The first line of this poem is Whitman's. I was struck by how incredibly contemporary it sounded when I stumbled upon it. I love the question. It seems too huge to answer.