Moonlit River Landscape with Figures and a Town Beyond
1
mail arrives
falling
from the mouth
in the forest
a tree could be a cello
I am, the tree says
I taste time
2.
town filled with shadows
the inside of your mouth
you rarely see cello roadkill
even in the most exalted forests
moon inside cello
a scarred red text
the eely yellow of those words you shouted
a long hollow note that reaches
back to before time was invented
cello music confirms
that we’re old
or older
can taste
the moon as it slides all buttery
across the new
I write you a letter
far away from the river and the town and
like shadows
I’m sorry
SPRING
say it who ate the hinges of the moneybox
say it who ate the golden fishes mothers fathers they were free
say it who ate the golden flowers fucking hell who ate the blue morning
say it who ate the golden people the lucky the wobbling who had blue eyes who could fly
say it who ate the golden stars the lucky swimmers swimming in the lucky night
say it a clown in a halter top and suddenly it’s spring
PLEIN AIR
Gary
Barwin is a writer,
musician and multimedia artist from Hamilton, Ontario and the author of the
novel, Yiddish for Pirates. His New & Selected Poems edited by Alessandro Porco & Paul Vermeersch will appear in Fall 2019 from Wolsak & Wynn. garybarwin.com
1
mail arrives
falling
from the mouth
in the forest
a tree could be a cello
I am, the tree says
I taste time
2.
town filled with shadows
the inside of your mouth
you rarely see cello roadkill
even in the most exalted forests
moon inside cello
a scarred red text
the eely yellow of those words you shouted
a long hollow note that reaches
back to before time was invented
cello music confirms
that we’re old
or older
can taste
the moon as it slides all buttery
across the new
I write you a letter
far away from the river and the town and
like shadows
I’m sorry
SPRING
say it who ate the hinges of the moneybox
say it who ate the golden fishes mothers fathers they were free
say it who ate the golden flowers fucking hell who ate the blue morning
say it who ate the golden people the lucky the wobbling who had blue eyes who could fly
say it who ate the golden stars the lucky swimmers swimming in the lucky night
say it a clown in a halter top and suddenly it’s spring
PLEIN AIR
PASTORAL
