Some Poems for the Road

The willows carried a slow sound, A sarabande the wind mowed on the mead. I could never remember That seething, steady leveling of the marshes Till age had brought me to the sea.

Flags, weeds. And remembrance of steep alcoves Where cypresses shared the noon’s Tyranny; they drew me into hades almost. And mammoth turtles climbing sulphur dreams Yielded, while sun-silt rippled them Asunder …

How much I would have bartered! the black gorge And all the singular nestings in the hills Where beavers learn stitch and tooth. The pond I entered once and quickly fled— I remember now its singing willow rim.

And finally, in that memory all things nurse; After the city that I finally passed With scalding unguents spread and smoking darts The monsoon cut across the delta At gulf gates … There, beyond the dykes

I heard wind flaking sapphire, like this summer, And willows could not hold more steady sound.

Hart Crane

Air from another life and time and place, Pale blue heavenly air is supporting A white wing beating high against the breeze,

And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon All of us there trooped out Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,

I take my stand again, halt opposite Anahorish Hill to scan the blue, Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.

And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew, Lifts itself, goes with the wind until It rises to loud cheers from us below.

Rises, and my hand is like a spindle Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher

The longing in the breast and planted feet And gazing face and heart of the kite flier Until string breaks and—separate, elate—

The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.

Seamus Heaney

A little drink enjoyed in the east of town; windy rain of the late autumn hitting the blinds and banners. City lights still unlit and lanterns dark, we shared an umbrella all the way — such tenderness!

Ema Saikō

We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn. A red wing rose in the darkness.

And suddenly a hare ran across the road. One of us pointed to it with his hand.

That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive, Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

O my love, where are they, where are they going The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles. I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

My head is spinning round My heart is in my shoes, yeah I went and set the Thames on fire, oh Now I must come back down She's laughing in her sleeve, boys I can feel it in my bones Oh, but anywhere, anywhere I'm gonna lay my head Oh, I'm gonna call my home

Well, I see that the world is upside-down Seems that my pockets were filled up with gold And now the clouds, Well they've covered everything over And the wind is blowing cold Well, I don't need anybody Because I learned, I learned to be alone Well, I said anywhere, anywhere, anywhere I lay my head, boys Well, I'm gonna call my home

Tom Waits