Frank Stanford – genius always bubbles in his lines … “Their Names Are Spoken”

“Their Names Are Spoken”

Where the saplings come up
In the belly of the road
Nobody has traveled for so long
I found the place you bear east

And walk over the hills
Until the sun goes down
And come onto smoke and goats
And the music of no socks

For a gate they use the stead
Of a tarnished brass bed
The little winds that came up
Like a child soaping a saddle

We dream on
Now night a cool moss
On the undersides of the cold ground
Keeps growing on the stones


~ by samofthetenthousandthings on May 2, 2015.

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