Jon Thompson

III
New Poems From the USA

 

Baroque  madness  of privacy, fear-wrought.  Regard,  a
new grammar of distance. They will write that we became
recluses  in a  land of hoarded  locks  &  locked splendor.
Voices voicing voices.  O Florida,  the placenames on the
maps whisper secret histories old tongues other worlds. I
Feare my Touchstone touches when I  try/ Me Fear the
touchstone the tongues the other worlds  We have feared
& resurrected towers out of it. Cypresses, cathedral-like,
with  a  certain  watery majesty.  Once lost,  Nature turns
narcissistic, emblem of unbearable beauty.