you didn't want to place a jar
in my backyard in tennessee
to catch the rain
or spider silk
or autumn leaves again.
you didn't want to place a jar
upon a hill in my backyard
but that grey urn
and wilderness
defy your best laid plans.
you placed a gray bare urn out there
upon the hill in my backyard
in memphis, tennessee to catch
the silk and rain and leaves again.
you didn't want to place that jar.
you didn't want to leave again.
the river, like that cold gray jar,
or like the wilderness, once tamed,
is cold and cools the muddy rocks
under the bridge
to arkansas
and now that you have placed your jar
i watch you drive away.
i watch the ashes drifting down
upon the rocks,
amid the leaves
i watch you leave, i watch you go
defy your best loved plans.
the webs and water, leaves and ash
and anecdotes you left behind
that do not give of bird or bush
are all becoming mine.

perhaps simply "go" instead of the word "drive", i wish the language was more ambiguous.
--chandler
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This is just so beautiful. Beutiful. thank you. I like the word "drive", the image of the modern day vehicle, the people going on about their lives, (maybe it's a buggy, so what?) that's just me. I love this poem. Please keep posting.
sg
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this is a conversation i had with my friend wallace:)
--chandler