for Greg Joly
In a west-facing room of a reclaimed factory
overlooking the Connecticut River
in Brattleboro, Greg is reading.
His poems so full of history names & dates burst in rushes
like water releases from the hydro plant:
Jefferson, Thoreau, Nearing, Weigl, Lew Welch,
but one, all breathing in the same room
as they never could
in the world of text books, taxes, and bombs.
Life is like that—you die,
someone remembers you lived
and brings you back,
even if only for a moment some moonless Saturday evening
as a gray-faced black lab walks between rows of chairs and people,
its toe nails tapping the warped, wood floor
in a rhythm that sings
I am not at peace
The world is not at peace
Listen to these songs Listen
When applause echoes against painted bricks,
the dog somehow knows
it is not for him; he strolls to a corner, lies down, pretends
Gary Metras has had poems in America, Gray’s Sporting Journal, Poetry, and Poetry Salzburg Review. His most recent book is The Moon in the Pool (Presa Press 2015). He is the editor and letterpress printer of Adastra Press.