I dreamt of railroad tracks last night,
of old Maryland country
where onion grass burns your nostrils
with its tendrils sopped in rain,
latched onto sodded roots
like the ones that tie me there,
to rolling farmland, wooded trails,
and crushed stone ballasts
where we walked over timber wood,
our clothes dampened
from the humidity creeping in
the same way we find each other
in the dazed corners of my mind.
Funny how image and person are locked
like those jointed bars and sleeper ties
inside aged ingenuity and hot rolled steel.
We plucked rock and rusted spike
from underlying subgrade,
unafraid of vibration,
not intimidated by direction
or the roll, hiss, and whistle
that would tear through our
accumulated thickness.
After warily crossing the tree line,
bugs swarmed and stuck to our skin
as if selected for martyrdom,
warning us of the approaching
danger gaining momentum
along that permanent way,
curving into a lost horizon.
All Rights Reserved; Elizabeth Wilson
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Beth, so I read this poem once and had a little trouble connecting with it, but I thought maybe that had something to do with the fact that I lack the "tie(s)" mentioned in the sixth line. And I was, as ever, impressed with your use of language. However, it started working on mentally even after the first read, which is not common, and the second time I read it, today, was a different experience. Now I feel pretty enchanted by it! I think the technique of using the correct terms really helped give this a sense of verismilitude; but what I really liked about it was the sense of mystery and/or the dream-liked quality, which was already observed re: Housekeeping, is not easy to pull off. Karen & I might clearly see the influence of that book here, but it definitely speaks with your voice. The last comment I would make is that I think I can begin to see emerging themes in at least some of your poems, esp. in lines like these lovely ones: "creeping in/the same way we find each other/in the dazed corners of my mind." I feel like I have read similar epxressions in other poems of yours, which is a good thing: I might call it an interest in how we (men & women? or just all of us?) connect with one another, or whether that is even really possible?? Lastly, a question: would you be opposed to me "tweeting" a link to certain poems that I feel ought to be read by others? That's up to you so I will not do so unless you give me your ok. Thanks for sharing your fine writing. -JJL
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