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More poems by Richard JonesRichard Jones | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Richard JonesBooks by Richard Jones

The Road

Richard Jones

I, too, would ease my old car to a stop
on the side of some country road
and count the stars or admire a sunset
or sit quietly through an afternoon....

I'd open the door and go walking
like James Wright across a meadow,
where I might touch a pony's ear and
break into blossom; or, like Hayden

Carruth, sustained by the sight
of cows grazing in pastures at night,
I'd stand speechless in the great darkness;
I'd even search on some well-traveled road

like Phil Levine in this week's New Yorker,
the poet driving his car to an orchard
outside the city where, for five dollars,
he fills a basket with goddamned apples.

Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 22 Jan 2018 9:09 AM | Viewed: 4422 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/3839/ | Viewed on 22 January 2018.
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