Frank Stanford, “Their Names Are Spoken” … “I found the place you bear east”…
“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
***