Thursday, January 13, 2011

Blood Travels

In the planetarium, an indigo bunting,
wings clipped to keep her away
from the falsely turning sky, navigates

toward the most stationary star. She will
do the same given a sky full of made-up
constellations. She recalibrates in days.

Long haul truckers drive
the circumference of earth in distance
and continue, like starting a novel

over again the moment it is finished.
The tree upheaves the sidewalk daily.
Your blood travels miles per hour.

When you understand what you are
running from, the difference between
exploration and exile is negligible,

the quarter mile of platform
past the depot beckons you to chase
after every departing train.


Anonymous said...

Some very profound thoughts in this poem. I enjoyed it.

nan said...

I feel a pang of existential angst after reading this beautiful poem. Excellent imagery of the clipped bunting juxtaposed to the long-distance trucker.

lightverse said...

I love the last line about chasing after every departing train, Really gives one something to think about.

LKHarris-Kolp said...

Enticing... great imagery!

Jeanne Aguilar said...

I enjoyed the last line too... reminds me of that feeling I had when I first started driving and would imagine what if I just kept driving on this road...and never came back!

Anonymous said...

Love the idea of long haul as re-reading.

twitches said...

"When you understand what you are
running from, the difference between
exploration and exile is negligible."

Wish I'd written that!

sam said...

This is beautiful. I love the imagery used to depict a neverending cycle. Very lovely.

flaubert said...

A beautiful poem, full of deep meaning.

Anonymous said...

So much to enjoy and relish here. That last stanza sang to me...

My little poem is called <a href=">Pop-Tart</a>

Tumblewords: said...

Absolutely exquisite - provocative and poetic.

Anonymous said...

I can't help feeling that whatever we are running from will be found again wherever we run to.

Great poem.

Dan Wilcox said...

Once talked to a hill-billy trucker in Kentucky who said he had "been all around the world." I asked, what's the farthest away you've been. He said, "Texas." Starting the truck each morning is like starting the poem, only more useful.

hedgewitch said...

Very fine poem, particularly the opening and penultimate stanzas. not that the rest aren't also full of all they should be. I just enjoyed that penultimate quatrain.

Deb said...

Gorgeous, Nathan. I love the migration study, feel the compassion for that beautiful bird reflected in each repetitive turning.

Anonymous said...

i really am enamored of your poetry. this line blew me away ~

"Inside one movement, another, and another."