The Skeleton of Water

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The Skeleton of Water Poems, 1979-1984 Gordon Fisher 1. Who that say that? Passed Past Friends blur and cities melt like ink in rain. What I read before or meant to read is now trapped dots and runny dissolution, though gravid dots remain which may give birth to fictions, schemes, regrets or benedictions. Anyway, some messages arrived today I still can read with fresh precision, in the right light, with my glasses on. Dec 1981; Jun, Jul 1982 memory mist breath of blown days puff of Trebizond bl
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  The Skeleton of Water  Poems, 1979-1984Gordon Fisher   1. Who that say that?Passed Past Friends blur and cities melt like ink in rain.What I read before or meant to readis now trapped dots and runny dissolution,though gravid dots remain which may give birthto fictions, schemes, regrets or benedictions.Anyway, some messages arrived todayI still can read with fresh precision,in the right light, with my glasses on.Dec 1981; Jun, Jul 1982 memory mist  breath of blown dayspuff of Trebizondblast of Alameinwracks of moving onsparrow daysflying pastswallow gravesshy epitaphswoven to disguise usbinding winds to restpatches of remind uson cloaks of nothing leftJul 1984  The Old Order  The old ones, for all I knew,had always been there like the Dipper.Grandfather in his special chair,a white-haired lion at the gate.Miss Waite the spelling teachershaking her finger at the tide.Mayor Louie guiding the villagefrom his cave in the feed store.Chief Herman shining his spotlightlike a comet in the nightas we practiced being grown,darting into alleys,our pockets stuffed with stolen apples.Now that was order.May 1984 shower sounds of rain spring legerdemainsticky tiresmoist road desiressounds of water walk on leavesrains daughterstalking eavesmight and mayrainy daymay and might rain tonightJul 1984  Promenade  The moon creates no color.Black leaves are chatteringabove the bushy beasts. The footsteps trailing mefire like pistols on the walk.Is that roar inside my ears?Is that metal in his heels? Just before he passes,I leap suddenly aside.He doesn’t break his stride,and starts to whistle.Who was the savage in the night?May 1981 Watch It, Clown Here comes Mr. Deathwith white bulb noseand warning on his cheeksriding a unicycle.Be careful how you circle Mr. Death   Be careful where you goes.May 1984  Reflection This brook is fresh,circling like a lover,tickling the rock.    The sun’s a vasty geniusthat calls up sparks   by rubbing water.The rock, old smoothie,holding ground,marks a placethe swirl and flashing found.Mar, Jul 1984 Polarity Go north and look for messages in ice,   the skeleton of water. You dida time in heat and now that you are rid   of macaws, giant ferns and paradise,be blinded by the sharp reflected lightof arctic suns and drops of ice in flight.Let snowflakes, falling, form a cold delightand crystals be the letters of your night.Mar 1982; Jul 1984 Permanent Press
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