poem index

Curve of Pursuit

Bin Ramke
A point, a line, alignment. Lovely
the lingering lights along the shore
as the century lays itself out for observation:

hunger and the youthful indiscretion.
I am one of many, or not even one,
but am of many one who watches the waves

and allows the particulate sand its say,
say, its sound, susurrant. Of many one
engaging the ear as if the Pacific

meant its name, as if the edge of
continent contented us with boundary.
Draw a line from A to B. Live there.

Copyright © 2012 by Bin Ramke. Used with permission of the author.

Bin Ramke

by this poet

poem

Lucretius loved Epicurus, knew
the world through him; his
meaning was clear: love as a way
of knowing, of assuming the known.

To know is to narrate.
People die trying to tell what
it was like there then. Others
die of not trying. The form of this
telling is, for
poem
(After Wallace Stevens' "Of The Surface Of Things")
Colligated points, dust, ultimately a cloud, as in
an orographic cloud in Colorado cringing against
a horizon. Boundaried vision and vapor conspire 

to exhale, exalt into rain random dispersal into 
the present: I see as far as