"But first, baby, as you climb and count the stairs (and they total the same), did you, sometime or somewhere, have a different idea?
Is this, baby, what you were born to feel, and do, and be?"

-Kenneth Fearing

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Six Parts of an Answer


She said she understood the distance

childhood builds into us.

I mentioned bread

and she said, “Say hunger

if that’s what you mean.”

We slept soundly in the fields

while steel clouds

churned destruction into rain.

Watching the plains, the thunder knew.

I saw the golden ladder reaching heaven.

All night I wrestled with the angel.

I wouldn’t let go until he told me,

that cold is just a matter of degree.

You have forgotten the cup of coffee,

that every cup since has been measured against,

and forgotten the proper form of a certain grief,

forgotten the street, the sound, the name.

Suppose that this Wednesday

those things delayed come to pass,

She waits for you with what she’s heard

a thousand words line up for you

like pigeons.

She said, “I will be any three.”

You laughed, only ready for two,

Throw runes to the birds.

Let need divide the waters.


  1. That must be a hell of a question, Brent! I love the mystic quality here, and in general of your poetry, I'm intrigued by your insights into man/woman relationships. This is awesome; beautiful.

  2. Thanks Sweepyjean! Hell of a question for sure! SO glad you liked it.

  3. Beautifil and Zen, Haiku, beautiful.

    Thank you