Poetic Divination | DIY

It appears that Vers Libre is down and has been for most of the day.

Another example of the truth in “you never really miss something until it’s gone” I suppose. Hopefully it’ll be back soon.

In the meantime, here’s something by Kenneth Patchen from his Collected Poems.

I first bought Patchen on a whim almost fifteen years ago. Not sure why, just picked the book up in a store and leafed through a few pieces. I think it was probably “The Rites of Darkness” that got my attention and made me drop sixteen bucks for it.

I wandered through it a few times, skimming really, over the next couple of weeks. But apart from that first poem, nothing else really sank in and the book sat on my shelf until a few nights ago when, wandering around looking for something to read, I picked it up again.

And now Patchen is in my hands and in my head. What was vaguely incomprehensible to me so long ago now strikes deep and resonant chords. Growing up, I suppose.

So, here’s one from Patchen to tide you over…

“Fog” by Kenneth Patchen

Rain’s lovely gray daughter has lost her tall love

He whose mouth she knew, who was good to her.

I’ve heard her talk of him when the river lights

Scream “Christ, it’s lonely; Christ! it’s cold.”

Heard the slug cry of her loneliness calling him

When the ship’s mast points to no star in the North.

Many men have thought they were he;

Feeling her cold arms as they held death in theirs–

The women face in the frame of nothingness;

As the machinery of sleep turned its first wheel.

And they slept, while angels fell in colored sound

Upon the closing waters. Child and singing cradle one.

O sorrowful lady whose lover is that harbor

In a heaven where all we of longing lie, clinging together

as it gets dark.