quoting Matt Langley
"set out from color"
but found a boundary
at best, a fallen fence
at worst, weeds grown
at heart,
in our hands
there stood difference
the same under
a dive, a swim,
a pocket full
of flailing house keys
pairs of prankster
car keys we didn't hide
well enough
but we went far
from a certain date,
we may never—
made it
look shiny, past dents
spit and polish,
all the troubles
smearing by
against a fence but maybe
time, no guards to say,
step there, that's
the wrong way
hoarse with certainty
I knew—
I know
but where we started
a shoulder overlooked
the pattern we see,
"set out from color."
I reverently believe that the maker who made us all makes everything in New
England, but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it must be
raw apprentices in the weather-clerks factory who experiment and learn how, in
New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted to make weather for
countries that require a good article, and will take their custom elsewhere
if they don't get it.
-- Mark Twain
This page was last modified on 2011 December 20. "Loved Poem No. 3" by John Sullivan is Copyright ©2003 - 2011, and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.