11 August 2006

George Oppen

[from George Oppen's This In Which, 1965]


In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—
That they are there!

                                  Their eyes
Effortless, the soft lips
Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
Tear the grass

                                  The roots of it
Dangle from their mouths
Scattering earth in the strange woods.
They who are there.

                                  Their paths
Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
Hang in the distances
Of sun

                                  The small nouns
Crying faith
In this in which the wild deer
Startle, and stare out.

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