Monday, May 10

The Farm When I Was Five
The most magic thing
was the pump in the backyard.
And a dipper to drink from.
For a long time the pump
was as tall as I was
and I used to make it do its magic
even when I wasn't thirsty.

The sound of the water
coming up from a dark somewhere
was a hollow roaring noise
that broke suddenly loose
and splashed a crystalline miracle
on the darkening cement.

Grandma always said,
"Stop wasting the water!"

I didn't waste it, Grandma.
There is this poem.
 - Grace Butcher
Before I Go Out on the Road

  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov