2 September 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 3
Notes from the Lake #2
After days of silent glow, nearing the kneaded air and pacing out the things that I wanted to say, I saw you—we met—like two birds along the paths by the water, between which was haze and wood.
We were scattered down among the rocks,
(and what do you see and what do you think? Are you a carrier different than myself?)
a braid of "pleases" between us, driftwood gray and long, invisible boats.
We are a peninsula-through moss banks and hooves-which splits up, as is the case with things that borrow courage from time.
Do you not want to open your beak and swallow my wings? The water is green, like moss.
About the author:
Brandon Shimoda has spent much time in and around the lakes of Connecticut, New York, Maine, Oregon, California and North Carolina. His thoughts about these lakes and others can be found in Hayden's Ferry Review, Barrow Street, Snow Monkey, Pindeldyboz, The Styles, and elsewhere. He currently lives in Oaxaca, Mexico.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Brandon Shimoda at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 2, No. 3, where "Notes from the Lake #2" ran on September 2, 2002. List other work with these same labels: poetry, prose poem.
