Drumming Reaches Us from New Orleans

     Occidental sins collect in the common grave where light goes once it’s
over. Intent in this world means everything.

     The estuary revolves around the tiniest which enable the larger and vice
versa. The great wheel turns, half dependent on money and timing.

     A senator on C-Span declares, None of these liberties mean much after
you’re dead
, as if meaning in the present hadn’t come from the past and the
long-range future.

     This goes on where the spectrum is architecture waiting for an end of
rain, or for the brothers embattled to settle their differences, as close as they
are to being one another, as similar as all of us are.

     Looming in the future world is the invisible country where minds have
cleared and the weaker are cared for, where wind rushing out of the calendars
finally calms down in the fractal complexity of forests, where matter drinks
from the river of electrical pulse.

     Out of New Orleans, a year after the hurricane, drumming reaches from
the waterfront where brothers and sisters are equal. Construction continues in
the empty place where everyone interconnects.






About the Author James Grabill:
Since the ‘70s, James Grabill’s poems have appeared in periodicals such as Harvard Review, Terrain, Urthona (UK), Shenandoah, The Oxonian Review (UK), Stand (UK), East West Journal, and The Common Review. His books include An Indigo Scent after the Rain and Poem Rising Out of the Earth. He teaches "systems thinking" relative to sustainability. Read more of his recent work at the Harvard Review Online and Magma Poetry Online.