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More poems by Theodore RoethkeTheodore Roethke | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Theodore RoethkeBooks by Theodore Roethke

Journey Into The Interior

Theodore Roethke

 
In the long journey out of the self,
There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places
Where the shale slides dangerously
And the back wheels hang almost over the edge
At the sudden veering, the moment of turning.
Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones.
The arroyo cracking the road, the wind-bitten buttes, the canyons,
Creeks swollen in midsummer from the flash-flood roaring into the narrow valley.
Reeds beaten flat by wind and rain,
Grey from the long winter, burnt at the base in late summer.
-- Or the path narrowing,
Winding upward toward the stream with its sharp stones,
The upland of alder and birchtrees,
Through the swamp alive with quicksand,
The way blocked at last by a fallen fir-tree,
The thickets darkening,
The ravines ugly.

Added: 16 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 15 Dec 2018 1:32 AM | Viewed: 8895 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2491/ | Viewed on 15 December 2018.
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