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    Watermark: Poems
    Watermark: Poems
    Watermark: Poems
    Ebook80 pages21 minutes

    Watermark: Poems

    By Jeff Hardin

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    About this ebook

    Hardin's poems invite us to wake to the mystery all around us, to time's revelatory unfolding, and to how our minds might find healing if only we listened intently enough to hear "the intercessions / made on our behalf."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMadville Publishing
    Release dateApr 14, 2022
    ISBN9781948692816
    Watermark: Poems

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      Book preview

      Watermark - Jeff Hardin

      Behind

      Back behind the words

      another story

      is being told—

      a context other

      than one I

      would impose.

      May I dim

      in some new light’s

      narrative

      and—holding a page—

      glimpse

      a watermark,

      as if

      a whispered prayer

      I so easily might have

      lived without.

      In the Biting Wind and Half-Dark

      You

      wake to apples on the doorstep,

      as Cezanne did,

      and while it’s true you’re moved

      by much you see,

      you have no painter’s eye

      to trace the cloudbank’s swirl of plumlight. You

      must

      —you can’t say why—

      go out each morning,

      even in the biting wind

      and damp-grass half-dark,

      and trek along the back-fence

      edges of your life, to feel, in your bones, that

      change

      from dark to light.

      What else to call it

      but a daily preparation

      for when the body turns

      to spirit, breath

      telling itself ahead of you only to fall away.

      Your

      hands grow numb

      and never held much anyway

      other than the upturned, empty look of them,

      the creases and folds,

      nicks and cuts.

      How perfect, you think, a poet comparing

      life

      to an instance of dew,

      even if saying nothing

      of the light inside each droplet

      bound up into the only sense

      tense makes—now

      offered up into always, light offered up into more of itself.

      Giving Time Back to Itself

      I

      doubt so much

      I see and hear

      I have to steal from sleep

      to sort out what is true.

      I find I cannot sleep

      unless I find I am awake, unless I

      give

      time back to itself,

      asking nothing more.

      I rarely can, though,

      with my elegiac heart

      and my lack of trust,

      my need to wring the darkness out of

      myself,

      to dream of only light

      inside of light,

      myself inside the inside

      that is always growing deeper,

      even as the light is

      Enjoying the preview?
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