22.8.08

against the night...

Frank Stanford

The Bass

He jumps up high
against the night,
rattling his gills
and the hooks
in his back.
The Indian says
he is like a goose
passing in front
of the moon.

          - from The Singing Knives

*

Such a beautiful image from Stanford. One motion, one place, one reality. Perfect in the sense it carries. Leaving out everything that is not the moment. When I read a poem like this one, no other writing, no other reading is necessary.

3 comments:

Mrs Slocombe said...

Don't you just hate that?

sam of the ten thousand things said...

Yes - and would give up everything I've written just to write that one piece.

Mrs Slocombe said...

I am feeling like that at the moment about J.S. Harry's book 'Not Finding Wittgenstein' ....except that I don't actually want to write like that. It's a staggering work though.