Tending Our Minutes and Whispering

 

I've only this week discovered Jorie Graham

which stuns me as she's been writing poetry

for over 40 years with much accomplishment.

Her poetry is exceptionally unique.

I'm only now, somewhat, getting used to it.

It's like a mirror of the chaotic thoughts and

conversations going on inside someone's mind.

I'm finding it challenging and astonishing. 

For example:  

"Tending our flock of minutes, whispering till the timelessness

within us is wrung dry and we are heavied with endgame."

I'm now picturing myself sitting in a field on a hillside, next to a rushing

creek tending my minutes like a flock of sheep!  

PS: (there are no biting flies or mosquitos in my reverie.)

This poem can be found here in its entirety 

kastilwell