Somewhere Near Abilene
"G. H." . . . a Kansas artist . . .
Somewhere near Abilene,
Took canvas, paint, and strips of wood,
And conjured up a scene
That hangs on our living room wall.
Not every day,
But when I'm in the mood,
That painting takes my eye
Into that Kansas scene,
Somewhere near Abilene.
Does the power lie
In color, form, or texture?
Strips of cedar, glued onto canvas,
For clouds, and trees, and fence--
Then all painted one golden color.
No . . . look closer . . .
It just seems one color,
But the color is what first catches the eye,
Shades of yellow, brown, and gold,
For both Kansas sky and prairie grass,
As if reflecting one another,
Then merging . . . becoming one . . . at the horizon.
But in that prairie grass . . . there . . .
See . . . a touch of green.
If the sun were setting just right,
Off there in the distance,
Just below that lost horizon,
Reflecting off of those cedar‑chip clouds,
It might then imbue everything‑‑
Sky, and trees, and grass‑‑
With its own golden color.
You can imagine such a scene . . .
Somewhere near Abilene.
But aren't these shapes too surreal?
Trees that cannot be trees,
Strips of wood, glued to canvas.
The large one on the left,
On this side of the fence,
A tree or a cactus plant?
In Kansas . . . it must be a tree . . .
But a strip of wood . . .
Like the fence, like the clouds.
That smaller tree,
Further away, far beyond the fence,
Less distinct in the distance,
May be more believable,
As stylized as the clouds.
Still . . . I've seen those weathered trees . . .
Haven't I?
Somewhere near Abilene?
The fence may be the secret.
Those strips of wood,
Posts and rails,
Do look like a fence,
A fence that might be found
Somewhere near Abilene,
Running off to the horizon,
Running off into that sunset,
Getting smaller and smaller until it disappears,
Having found another dimension for the spirit
Out there on that open prairie.
That's what holds my imagination.
I step into that scene,
To lean against that fence,
Contemplate that sunset,
Then walk on down that fence‑line . . .
Walk out of sight,
Into that other dimension,
Somewhere near Abilene.
Published in Inscape, Spring 1992.
All poetry on this page
Copyright © by ---------, 2006
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Definition
Heredity
The product of a million years of change,
I am my genes, reflect biology,
As DNA works patterns in a range
Of proteins just to fabricate a "me"
Of little cells, repeating endlessly
Some simple combinations that define
A complex that's unique, as I can see
When I look in the mirror‑‑the face is mine‑‑
So long in evolution, but, I think, "Looks fine!"
Environment
Still, every time I look is here and now‑‑
I am my time, determined by the place,
Its mores and its myths, its why and how‑‑
That's why I wear a tie and how my face
Gets shaved, electric'ly. The human race
Now races to the market in a car.
What I was taught in school provides the base
For what I think I think. Look up! A "star"!
Indoctrinated locally, I can't see far.
Society
And man's a "social" animal they say.
I am one of a group, a family,
A married man, defined, at work or play.
A father, teacher, citizen‑‑that's "me"‑‑
My family name is half my destiny.
American and Kansan just as much,
With numbers that insure "security,"
Certificates, and licenses, and such‑‑
And credit cards define a me they all can touch.
Choice
But yet I feel I'm capable of choice.
I am a creature exercising will,
Can choose to read a book, can raise my voice,
Can write a poem, refuse to pay a bill,
Can spare an ant, or elephant, or kill‑‑
On impulse, or on calculated plan.
I say I have a spirit, dreaming still
Of what I might become, and still be man,
Imagining no limits when I say, "I can!"
Fate
So what is man‑‑the dancer or the dance?
Am I the sum of four? Of two times two?
My mother and my father met by chance,
Their genes combined, one evening, as genes do,
And there I was! The social forces knew‑‑
They'd married first, an act of will, sublime.
And fate then touched that moment. Something new
Began to be, was then informed in time‑‑
An accident, 'twould seem‑‑who sits composing rhyme.
Published in Inscape, 1990,
...then as first poem in Going Formal.
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The Bridge of Dreams
"The bridge of dreams"‑‑the phrase reverberates‑‑
Suggesting flights of spirit, or of mind,
Transcending all that's physical, that waits,
Along with poor mortality, behind.
You pass beyond the sense of time and place,
To find your being in infinity,
To contemplate the Godhead, see the face
Of all that's faceless, all we cannot see,
Become as one with nothing, and with all,
Embracing past and future in a breath.
And if the world you left behind should call,
Respond with cosmic laughter, saying, "Death,
You have no power over me, it seems,
For I've escaped. I've crossed the bridge of dreams."
Published in Inscape, Fall 1992, then opens Bridge 24
(the last chapter) in The Bridge of Dreams, and is included in
The Collected Sonnets, Woodley Press, 2004.
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