Readings in Contemporary Poetry

Donald Revell


The god is how many
bridges and automobiles
cut off mid-sentence
in the effect of style?

Weak and eerie with
distance like all
magic, scattered,
commingled and gone,

the god persists in 
the singing before 
the syringes of waking.
He is the pause endlessly.

He breaks the tree,
and it waits to fall.

copyright 1993, from Southwest Review, Winter 1994