Poetry of the USA: Poet from Maine
This poet, http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/106 is Tory Dent.
She was from a few different states, but she spent part of her life in Maine.
I chose Maine because it seems the farthest state from my own state of California.
Palea
by Tory Dent
Only my mouth taking you in, the greenery splayed deep green.
Within my mouth, your arm inserted, a stem of gestures, breaking gracefully.
Into each other we root arbitrarily, like bushes, silken, and guttural.
Palaver, we open for the thrill of closing, for the thrill of it: opening.
The night was so humid when I knelt on the steps, wet and cold, of prewar stone.
A charm bracelet of sorts we budded, handmade but brazen, as if organic.
I cannot imagine the end of my fascination, emblazoned but feather-white too.
The gold closure of this like a gold coin is, of course, ancient.
Why can't experience disseminate itself, be silken and brazen yet underwater?
A miniature Eiffel Tower, an enameled shamrock, a charm owned by its bracelet.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tory_Dent
Short transcript of Adrienne Rich’s words after Tory dent’s death in 2006 : Here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=5081654
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5081654
The above link includes an amazing poignant poem…including these line that touched me deeply:
Life's truest truth, it's that truth itself
unravels in ways that reveal less not more sense or comfort.
She was from a few different states, but she spent part of her life in Maine.
I chose Maine because it seems the farthest state from my own state of California.
Palea
by Tory Dent
Only my mouth taking you in, the greenery splayed deep green.
Within my mouth, your arm inserted, a stem of gestures, breaking gracefully.
Into each other we root arbitrarily, like bushes, silken, and guttural.
Palaver, we open for the thrill of closing, for the thrill of it: opening.
The night was so humid when I knelt on the steps, wet and cold, of prewar stone.
A charm bracelet of sorts we budded, handmade but brazen, as if organic.
I cannot imagine the end of my fascination, emblazoned but feather-white too.
The gold closure of this like a gold coin is, of course, ancient.
Why can't experience disseminate itself, be silken and brazen yet underwater?
A miniature Eiffel Tower, an enameled shamrock, a charm owned by its bracelet.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tory_Dent
Short transcript of Adrienne Rich’s words after Tory dent’s death in 2006 : Here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=5081654
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5081654
The above link includes an amazing poignant poem…including these line that touched me deeply:
Life's truest truth, it's that truth itself
unravels in ways that reveal less not more sense or comfort.