CharlesLouis
March 7th 2005, 04:39 PM
Visit to Antietam
1.
Alone I walk
into this quiet landscape
from the east, up to a knoll
to look out upon
hordes of dark color
gathered in terrible rituals
mid fire and smoke
that darken the sun--
I hear sounds now,
the rhythmic thud of cannon
from distant corners
and from the hills
a muffled rumbling of drums.
From behind, couriers gallop past me
straightway into throngs
up to where ruffled flags sway,
to those mounted high with swords drawn,
about to unleash their flexing lines
to collide with columns coming on.
I watch them shift and fan
then clash as distant volleys crackle
in long orange ribbons where smoke is rising--
then, like healed limbs, broken lines rejoin,
smaller now but whole,
to thrust once more
into spiraling bursts of yellowy orange.
Is that a cornfield on the distant plain
not far from where the spire stands?
I see stalks moving like men
advancing and falling back
in wild infernal whirling,
hear savage yells ripping through space,
while as I watch,
that field of green
is reaped by frenzied swathings
turns brown now, then grayish,
is slashed and shredded,
then ravaged in geysers of fire.
I see you, man in blue, your back to me--
in haste your lines heaving forward
like waves, cresting and curling
to splash in smoky spume onto a road
that cuts the fields in two--
alas, facing you I see
four fixed columns of reddish gold
bursting as one,
halting your forward drive--
there where dark mounds are rising.
And far off to my left
a long snakelike movement
bloating at a bridge
behind which the hills
are streaming with fire
as if hell's crucible were spurting
out a thousand pores
directing its flow of sparkling orange
toward that crossing,
while on this side
clotting masses keep swelling
until one small dark artery,
giving way to pressure,
breaks over into
that brimming inferno
to wind its way forward, slowly,
as if protected by
some wondrous wall.
For Part 2 and Part 3 click: Visit to Antietam (http://geocities.com/clcing/4hh.html)
1.
Alone I walk
into this quiet landscape
from the east, up to a knoll
to look out upon
hordes of dark color
gathered in terrible rituals
mid fire and smoke
that darken the sun--
I hear sounds now,
the rhythmic thud of cannon
from distant corners
and from the hills
a muffled rumbling of drums.
From behind, couriers gallop past me
straightway into throngs
up to where ruffled flags sway,
to those mounted high with swords drawn,
about to unleash their flexing lines
to collide with columns coming on.
I watch them shift and fan
then clash as distant volleys crackle
in long orange ribbons where smoke is rising--
then, like healed limbs, broken lines rejoin,
smaller now but whole,
to thrust once more
into spiraling bursts of yellowy orange.
Is that a cornfield on the distant plain
not far from where the spire stands?
I see stalks moving like men
advancing and falling back
in wild infernal whirling,
hear savage yells ripping through space,
while as I watch,
that field of green
is reaped by frenzied swathings
turns brown now, then grayish,
is slashed and shredded,
then ravaged in geysers of fire.
I see you, man in blue, your back to me--
in haste your lines heaving forward
like waves, cresting and curling
to splash in smoky spume onto a road
that cuts the fields in two--
alas, facing you I see
four fixed columns of reddish gold
bursting as one,
halting your forward drive--
there where dark mounds are rising.
And far off to my left
a long snakelike movement
bloating at a bridge
behind which the hills
are streaming with fire
as if hell's crucible were spurting
out a thousand pores
directing its flow of sparkling orange
toward that crossing,
while on this side
clotting masses keep swelling
until one small dark artery,
giving way to pressure,
breaks over into
that brimming inferno
to wind its way forward, slowly,
as if protected by
some wondrous wall.
For Part 2 and Part 3 click: Visit to Antietam (http://geocities.com/clcing/4hh.html)