Thursday, August 23, 2007

Two Poems: JB Mulligan

the rain

How is the rain about you? But it is
somehow. Outside, beyond the glass, it stays
at the edge of notice: nose and ear detect
rain's scent and whisper, which briefly distract
you from some indrawn task to a broader home;
while out in it and walking, soaked to the bone,
a smile from childhood plastered on your face,
the world reduces to this time and place.
The rain that was before and will not end
rises within you, and washes you beyond,
connecting soul and skin and sky with what
you are, and what will be when you are not.

* * * * *

deep surfaces

The heavy clouds collapse upon the hills,
breast to breast in a large embracing sprawl.
The river’s muscle-rippled surface spills
dull silver, spent. A storm came. That is all.

The insubstantial presses on the meat
embodying desire, and all that it
exchanges, as a part that must entreat
a possibility to a fleshy fit.

So you and I. So “ironworks and time”.
A surface, everywhere conjoined, can claim
infinite depth and influence sublime,
particular, and everywhere the same.

~ JB Mulligan lives in Washingtonville, NY. This is his first appearance in Elegant Thorn Review.

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