...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Sunday, April 20, 2014

46. Poem Made on Holy Saturday

The blasts of daisies on the bank
of the San Gabriel River dignify
the marred river, as does the line
of yellow mustard stretching along
the bike path. The Great Blue Heron
rising from water to rest above concrete
walls that hem in the water’s course,
and cormorants standing, drying their wings
on a rusted pipe bridge, make one forget
almost trash floating beneath them and
the smell of detergent the water plumes forth.
The people on bikes are incidental
to all of this, except that they sustain
and increase the blasted-out background
before which flowers and creatures
appear and reappear, somehow, in relief.

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