Going to the Well

Richard Alan Bunch

 

I go to the well for water

for that is where there is rope

bent with meaning as scene-drenched

as mountains beside the sea.

 

I go to the well to forget

the image that appears there

tucked between intertexts

with their heart lines of bittersweet tales.

 

I go to the well to wet my hair

torched with dreams in nightmare forests

with their deafening midnight pulleys

that stretch philosophy into recollection.

 

I go to the well to rediscover

what I can remember

about you as a swarm of rhythms,

a pond as natural as summer rain.

 

I go to the well to uncover new moons

behind every other sail

and still dance unrivalled

on quilts of guitars and drums.

 

I go to the well to shake the hands

of insomnia where mediums say

my summers could be only sand

amid the shooting stars of blood.

 

I go to the well to watch stirring silence

outfox the drivers of anger who cannot

fathom how music’s special weather

sounds seashells in cities beneath the sea.

 


Richard Alan Bunch's publications include Night Blooms and A Foggy Morning. His poetry has appeared in Windsor Review, Poetry Southeast, Oregon Review, Fugue, Hawai’i Review, Many Mountains Moving and the Owen Wister Review. His latest collection is Running for Daybreak.  He resides with his family in Davis, California.

 

Return