The taxi makes the vegetables fly.
‘Dozo kudasai,’ I have him wait.
Past the bright lake up into the temple,
shoes off, and
my right leg swings me left.
I do survive beside the garden I
came seven thousand mile the other way
supplied of energies all to see, to see.
Differ them photographs, plans lie:
how big it is!
austere a sea rectangular of sand by the oiled mud wall,
and the sand is not quite white: granite sand, grey,
â?”from nowhere can one see all the stonesâ?”
but helicopters or a Brooklyn reproduction
will fix thatâ?”
and the fifteen changeless stones in their five worlds
with a shelving of moving moss
stand me the thought of the ancient maker priest.
Elsewhere occursâ?”I rememberâ?”loss.
Through awes & weathers neither it increased
nor did one blow of all his stone & sand thought die.
(John Berryman)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Past Poems, Garden Poems, Planning PoemsBased on Keywords: fix, mud, lake, shoes, loss, seven, granite, priest, five, temple, moving