One Art – G. Timothy Gordon
. . . something beyond themselves, beyond words.
There’s a scent that can’t be defined
Like breathless painting, music, dance
Unplowed yet into sentient fields,
Graphic grey-mists hovering water,
That won’t be read or turned to tongue
But be lived in its own skin as attar
From nard or musk, commingled
Jungle flora, balm from incense forests
Or fetid, pressed-against-the-pavement
Hog-nosed weasels littering freeway ditches,
Splatters and drips reeking formidable life
Without intrusive name, logic, their rank
Ineffable, what we can’t arrest as our own
Smart and sensible and very own keepsake.
Gordon‘s seventh poetry/fiction collection, FROM FALLING, will be published Spring, 2016 (Spirit-of-the-Ram P). Work appears in extensive juried journals. He has been awarded NEA and NEH Fellowships and been nominated for four Pushcart awards and NEA’s Western States’ Book Awards. He divides personal and professional lives between Asia and the Desert/Mountain Southwest.