Lukasa
The only thing I can remember is the
beautiful—
Looking for water from a deeper well.
The cottonwoods with songs that travel
over prairie
& the many
ghosts that live in old fences.
All I remember is the beautiful—
Green sunflowers worn thin by the moon.
The young man
who dresses himself like a bride.
Hands with
seventeen fingers.
The spines of
roses & wolves at Yellowstone.
Only the beautiful I remember—
The black sounds of roots definitive as
childbirth.
The certainty
of love & being understood.
That which breaks open
the clouds.
One returns to the self as if to the
beautiful.
22 February 1996
[Published in The Dance Of Yellow Lightning Over The
Ridge:
Poems 1993-1997. © 1998 by Jim Cohn.]
APPEARS IN
The Dance Of Yellow Lightning Over The Ridge: Poems 1993-1997
(Writers & Books Publications, 1998)