The Old Actor

night blur desert -1.jpg

 

A long shot wind cast grey
Nothing cold against the scrim
Hills front lit and opaque
With dust a winter’s tale left
Hanging from an earlier production
Dark birds fly up a little way
The dog breaks point cuing
Night power poles mark time
Between this place and nothing seen
The old baron rests walking
Though seldom sleeps
Legs twitching with the younger
Hunter’s dreams
They backtrack toward the freeway
Miles away headlights as footlights
Limn the apron of the plain
He picks up spent shell
Casings empty bronze tunnels
Hard in his pocket there’s a burnt place
To the north tall sage won’t grow
Anymore by accident of fire-eating
Now the prairie crust recovers in sad grasses
Fool’s gold cheating left
If summer comes it takes
A certain vigor to remain inside the best man
Always walked the fence line
With a gun pacing the dog
Of greater heart and therefore loved the more
Tasting shadows joy for the dirt track
Judge fast when they fly up
Over the silky dusk judge quickly
Lest ye be judged wanting tomorrows
Sorrow moon easy to find the hot spot
Alone on the stage
There the velvet curtain and the wings
Waiting birds rising last call Praise
On the wind calls for snow again tomorrow
He whistles the dog home.

επτά λέξη του μάντης Syllables of the Sibyl

Going Out to Sole's Rest