Not dribble of sand through neck of a glass
but the rattle of scree beneath the tread of a man
as he makes his traverse, as he climbs
between sheer heights in a resonant place and hears
no sound but the pipes of the wind
and the drum of each breath
and the shedding away of stones at every step.
Gael Turnbull
2 comments
Where did you find this one please, Steve? Gael Turnbull has always been one of my favourite poets.
'The patience of the bricklayer
Is assumed in the dream of the architect.'
Love Pat
Click the link - his name under the poem - and it will take you to his Collected Poems published by Shearsman: http://www.shearsman.com/pages/books/catalog/2006/turnbull.html
p.384
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