Sunday, August 17, 2008

A poem for mid-August, by Lorine Niedecker

The clothesline post is set
yet no totem-carvings
distinguish the Niedecker tribe

from the rest;
every seventh day they wash:

worship sun; fear rain,
their neighbors' eyes;

raise their hands
from ground to sky,

and hang or fall
by the whiteness of their all.

Lorine Niedecker (1903-1970)

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

very lovely - thanks, you've brought a little romance to my hot august life