Fall 2016 (Volume 20, Issue II): 20th Anniversary Issue
More Than We Can Ever Learn from Books
MORE THAN WE CAN EVER LEARN FROM BOOKS
after Sir John Lubbock
Glass baptism at dawn chills me through on this lake,
The willows remind me I grew on this lake.
If Cecil Harden’s portrait lies etched in the waves,
Her cheekbones are arcs my skis drew on this lake.
In dreams Steve Jobs’ ghost howls “New info each second!”
A pace herons taught me to eschew on this lake.
Etudes leak like hymns from Daddy’s bassoon,
To raccoons making old mischief new on this lake.
Pontoons cleave twin wakes with Doc at the helm,
Beard streaming, white banner askew on this lake.
Somehow Grandma makes peace with my foolhardy bridge,
Bidding slams with eight points too few on this lake.
Uncle Winter, he cackles through a mouthful of leaves,
Mocks what’s left of the autumn he slew on this lake.
This thin film of ice amplifies morning clamor,
A woodpecker hammers cold blues on this lake.
On a trudge with the dogs through mud-spangled snow,
I learn things I forgot that I knew on this lake.
Lubbock said lakes are our best schoolmasters,
Wonder who would have taught me in lieu of this lake.