by Nicholas Morgan
Nicholas Morgan is a resident of Mariposa County. He writes both poems and short stories. Mr. Morgan also maintains the website "A Borderline Coast". In the following paragraph the poet explains his poem, "The Poem from Cassebuam Meadow."
"All poets' latent inspiration contains somewhere amidst whispers of memory a fight against a pervasive, hypocritical materialism. What has raised their ire more than that attitude gaining higher morality than morality itself? In this way my fellow siblings seem increasingly strange to me, I find it difficult to talk to them; their struggles, once mine, seem nearly forgotten. Even the future feels transitory, which is what the poem is about. The reference "the one who looks long at it long changes" is meant to transform time itself, even time, into a sinister hypnotic, for one does indeed change if one takes it in, as it "melts curves" once so bravely carved as art. For one who stares into it, the struggle of the following lines begins its poignant divisions of the soul, ending with absolutely no resolution in logic, but still fertile, flickering hopes of a faraway balance; ideals from heaven, endeavoring for all earth's discovery. It's justice to let a 1000 galaxies collapse, but may sentience survive them, the most lovely word ever devised."
"Is that hoofprints I see down there?
Ah! Heading for the watery river! Could they know I’ve been this way before?
How can I hold back?
There was a time when I sat straight
but now the only chance I take
the natural ground has supported my lively days
The rock I turned over with great love
A name in a tree has no feeling in it
There was a stone bench that really changed its face by now. I cant go where my own
A day came when someone kicked their burning fire into the foaming sea. All their
Like soft wood the face of all land has changed. A skillful one has carved a face with
And they will cry long over a mound of small stones.
And like brass on a forge the circumstances are, but from lack of copper it is too
the flickering of the sky will change to a pattern of intricate proportion.
pushing the grass into the ground?
Its been a long time since I seen such a thing in this place!
Deriving joy from exploration?
How can I discipline myself from holding back?
On a horse with no saddle.
Nothing did I force into its jaw.
I never held any leather in my hand.
Friendly relations were all around my realm.
is being seen by other men.
but it speaks no record of me.
has no record of my doing-
A frolicsome head of hair cannot remember me
thoughts draw me.
The inhabitants aren’t the same.
eyes have become smoking ashes.
and I do not know them.
hope strong like a chisel, but a frail wind has melted its curves. And the one who it
looks at long also changes. And they will freeze like fear when they know it looks at
them.
And they will remember a time they carved bones with great hunger.
And flat ground will become a mountain with winter sleeping stiff on it.
And they will trim fat they never seen by a sword with many handles.
And the one analyzing will be recognized as the former.
And the frail ones will carry the likeness of the lost ones.
brittle for shaping.
but balances will be composed for hunters of the peaceful seas.
The smell of the clouds will be as fertile as the basket of dirt."
All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 1998. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for
copyright information.
Authors and poets submitting original materials to this journal retain all rights to their
original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author. Copyright © Nicholas Morgan 1997.
Return to Central California Poetry Journal Table of Contents
Send email to the Central California Poetry Journal
Return to Solo Publications On Line
Return to Solo Publications Web Index
Back To The Top
