GTimothy Gordon


    (after Seamus Heaney)

Senor Heaney cannot drop
A flat vowel
Into bog, well, meadow,
Without mincing words,

Snouts of riffraff, cow,
And calf, blowing Blague,
And blowing into turf-teats,
Into some smalltalk of Broagh.


          caught / in the cold snows of a dream.

Lines of early Spring
Ripen, recede,

Dwarf the morning star
Staggering in.

Day gnaws at a pace
Beneath the mind

Of man and beast
And root and rock, changes

The business of becoming

To peace
Peace among

The quiet race
Of Spring so
Dumbly brought in.

So much this Spring,
This need.

GTimothy Gordon has recent fiction and poetry in Dos Passos Review, Evansville Review, Saltzburg Poetry Review, and Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review.  A poem has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.



Current Issue
Contributors' Notes

Email this poem Printer friendly page

A CLOSER LOOK: Terence Winch

Karren Alenier

Gary Beck

Bob Boston

Grace Cavalieri

Norma Chapman

Lydia R. Cooper

Niamh Corcoran

Laura Fargas

Simki Ghebremichael

GTimothy Gordon

Joshua Gottlieb-Miller

Ron Goudreau

Taylor Graham

Jonathan Highfield

Susan A. Katz

Ann Knox

Judy Kronenfeld

Barbara Lefcowitz

Israel Lewis

Caroline McNeil

Susan Meehan

Mary Morris

Beth Paulson

Roger Pfingston

Shep Ranbom

Heddy Reid

Elisavietta Ritchie

Noel Smith

John Surowiecki

Steven Trebellas

Patrick Uanseru

Pamela Murray Winters

Kathi Wolfe

Ernie Wormwood

Leo Yankevich

Katherine E. Young














Last Updated: Mar 10, 2021 - 2:35:35 PM

Copyright 2005 - 2021 Cook Communication.