to leave his fitful home...
from my anthology of must read (a)merican poems
Liam Rector
Age Moves
Age moves in the hound
As it was in me moving
Through forest I found
As to dog I went
That year scrounging
Through Manhattan....
The wood opened out,
Unlikely in the city,
As to boy slandering
To leave his fitful home,
Bright he might survive
With his pen-knife only.
*
I’m drawn to the possibility in Rector’s beautiful poem – a work that serves, or at least seems so now, as a message-in-a-bottle from a wonderful poet.
A gentle wave as he goes – gentle…because the world is not always so.
1949-2007
4 comments:
I'm a little shocked. Thanks for posting this.
Sad news.
Reading the tributes & the examples of his poetry, I'm appalled at how little American poetry filters through the various veils & barriers that enclose the poetry scene (such as it is) here in the UK. Personal resolution: I shall seek out more!
Thanks for stopping by, Dick. One important attribute of American poetry is how open it is. A poetry with many voices, many differences.
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