Somehow, I never posted this…so here it is, another Monday, and time for a poem.
I lost Monday this week, traveling. It’s odd the way you step into a sealed tube, pass hours suspended above the continent, then emerge on the other side.
In the bookstore in the new SF airport terminal, they had (surprisingly) the wonderful bookof Tomas Tranströmer’s Selected Poems, edited and introduced by Robert Hass. I couldn’t resist buying a copy. Here’s a selection:
The building is closed. The sun crowds in through the windowpanes
and warms up the surfaces of desks
that are strong enough to take the load of human fate.
We are outside today, on the long wide slope.
Many have dark clothes. You can stand in the sun with your eyes shut
and feel yourself blown slowly forward.
I come too seldom down to the water. But I am here now,
among large stones with peaceful backs.
Stones which slowly migrated backwards up out of the waves.