Thomas Brush
Poetry
This is what I want, having listened
For too long to the lies and scorn of the talking head. See
How close we’ve become? Shall We Gather
At The River, Twenty Miles Of Bad Road are good
Songs, right? Come on, be grateful
For what we have, after all, we greet each other
With smiles and open arms, in spite of having watched
The collapse of the late hours
That whisper don’t leave, stay here, let me
Help.
It will be as easy as loving
The rain, the storms, the wind in its disguises
That bends the spruce trees sideways, that blows
The clouds away.
And I think it’s poetry
That makes truth possible, Galway Kinnell’s Book
Of Nightmares, “Little sleep’s head sprouting hair
in the moonlight,” something
To believe in, to cling to through the mist
Of despair that coats nearly
Everything.
Thomas Brush write: My latest books all from Lynx House Press, are Last Night (2012), Open Heart (2015), and God’s Laughter (2018). My first poems were published in 1970 in Poetry Northwest. I’m still writing.