Beginning in Valdivia![]() ©Elisa Salasin, 2008 Dashed against a stone my body is easily broken. Muscle of fired clay it embraces sustenance-- oranges, onions, miso soup. At times set inside another, at times another inside me. Coupled. Full. Full enough of promise to pour out my heart of easy quaff and conformity. Even empty, I suggest function: a moat for roses, a small pit for thick ooze, a still life with blue cloth and egg. Something transient and always used. Like the seasons. God’s thumbprint in mud. Ildefonso black on black, or with Granada’s cobalt rimmed. From Valdivia to museums, defining an inscrutable past, sometimes naming an art, sometimes accessible and unornate as a chamber pot, my body crosses cultures. Silent, I’m a mouth that speaks for us all, a drum, the dome of the sky, a gouged globe, a flow, a warning, a shard. ©Darrell g.h. Schramm, 2008 Darrell g.h. Schramm became a BAWP in 1992, returning again four years later. He teaches rhetoric/composition and poetry at USF and has been published in more than 100 journals and magazines. He likes to play in the garden, to dance, to read poetry in translation, and to wear out his lover. schrammd@usfca.edu Letter to the Editor • Print This Page • Home |
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