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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
October 2004
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Monday, 4. October 2004

Beech Leaf Poems



[1]

A beech leaf falling, Whirling in expanding circles, To the ground: That is how I undress you.

Your exposed spine – a stone Of white quartz, My tongue – water Of the creek rushing over it.

[2]

On this pliable Arrowhead, this fall’s Beech leaf, I write down My spell.

May it pierce you: a quivering Arrow, full of desire and pain. May it enter you: a seed Of my lions seeking root, And bear fruit.

[3]

As beech leaves fall Again, in this year Of thirsts, this year Of plentiful rains

My mouth, crouched Over the stream bed, Travels upstream seeking The moist stony source, The wetness of your Liquid sex.

2004:10:03, Lullwater Woods, Atlanta




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