I've stood on thinner sheets. Took crunching walks
On leaf-embodying and lumpy glass
To a sidewalk's abrupt end, along a bright
Section of newly-insulated path,
Over a prickling hump of weedy dam
And onto this broad opening in the words: lake,
Brown language adrift with plants and fish,
Masked underneath a civilizing white
Tectonic crystalline, a cloudy plate.Sun burned horizon black, and then went down;
The honed air slipped and whisked across the lake.
Flare, pile of glassleaves! -- no -- fail, pyre...
- Originally published in BOMB magazine, Dark Ice, a poem mirroring / punning / parodying / hommaging Pale Fire, is now available on-line at the author's site. Very good, very funny, very moving -- please read all the footnotes.
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