Buckdancer’s Choice: Poems

The Common Grave

The Common Grave I Some sit and stare In an unknown direction, though most lie still, Knowing that every season Must be wintered. II The mover of mists and streams Is usually in the weeds By twilight, taking slowly A dark dedicated field-shape. III Of all those who are under, Many are looking over Their shoulder, although it is only one leap To beyond-reason gold, only one Breath to the sun's great city. All ages of mankind unite Where it is dark enough. IV The midstrides of out-of-shape runners, The discarded strokes of bad swimmers, Open-mouthed at the wrong timeAll these are hooked wrongly together. A rumor runs through them like roots: They must try even harder 26 To bring into their vast, Indiscriminate embrace All of humanity. v In someone's hand an acorn Pulses, thinking It is only one leap, Only one. VI In the field by twilight are The faller in leaves through October, The white-headed flyer in thistles Finding out secret currents of air, The raiser of mists from the creekbed, A fish extending his body Through all the curves of the river, The incredible moon in the voice box Of dogs on All Souls' Night. VII All creatures tumbled together Get back in their wildest arms No single thing but each other, Hear only sounds like train sounds, Cattle sounds, earth-shakers. VIII The mover of all things struggles 27 In the green-crowded, green-crowned nightmare Of a great king packed in an acorn. A train bends round a curve Like a fish. An oak tree breaks Out and shoves for the moonlight, Bearing leaves which shall murmur for years, Dumfoundedly, like mouths opened all at once At just the wrong time to be heard, Others, others. 28 ...