Robinson Jeffers at Hawk Tower, 1939 |
And there you are, again,
The troubled midnight
And the noon's repose,
How can it be thirty years?
And why still?
Your facebook page, I could say,
Led to my dream.
But, no. It was the other way around.
At least I kept it short:
Meteors are not needed
Less than mountains,
I typed, stacking stones on your wall,
Posting Jeffers,
Western Pennsylvania boy,
Brilliant and flawed in the tower he built
Overlooking a violent sea,
Each salt-soaked stone he carried up
Into the wind at the top of his cliff
From out of the low detonation,
See it flex in his arms and his mind,
All cord and flash, stone after stone,
Year after year, storm after storm after storm,
Behold the sinews of a belabored heart.