Treasure Island

Archie Randolph Ammons

(18 February 1926 – 25 February 2001 / Whiteville, North Carolina)

An Improvisation For Angular Momentum


Walking is like
imagination, a
single step
dissolves the circle
into motion; the eye here
and there rests
on a leaf,
gap, or ledge,
everything flowing
except where
sight touches seen:
stop, though, and
reality snaps back
in, locked hard,
forms sharply
themselves, bushbank,
dentree, phoneline,
definite, fixed,
the self, too, then
caught real, clouds
and wind melting
into their directions,
breaking around and
over, down and out,
motions profound,
alive, musical!

Perhaps the death mother like the birth mother
does not desert us but comes to tend
and produce us, to make room for us
and bear us tenderly, considerately,
through the gates, to see us through,
to ease our pains, quell our cries,
to hover over and nestle us, to deliver
us into the greatest, most enduring
peace, all the way past the bother of
recollection,
beyond the finework of frailty,
the mishmash house of the coming & going,
creation's fringes,
the eddies and curlicues

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: mother, birth, house, peace, wind, death

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

improve

Comments about this poem (An Improvisation For Angular Momentum by Archie Randolph Ammons )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A daily fun!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
  2. Ray of Hope, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
  3. National flag., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
  4. Examined, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  5. Trance in the rain, Nassy Fesharaki
  6. Azal se mauzood hoon..., Azhar Sabri
  7. Time Chases Me, Neela Nath
  8. Elimination, Hans Raj Sharma
  9. We have come thru..., bill costley
  10. The elements of loss, nick feiner

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]