It is plain, flat country.
\nIn autumn it\u2019s yellow with wheat.
\nWinter has a dark peacefulness,
\nand the lake to the north
\nis the wall of its world.
\nConsidering that the earth is mostly blue,
\nI should have been born in the sea,
\nand known this land
\nonly as a mysterious island,
\nand if I were a sea gull,
\nI could follow the wind
\nand see this land and then go home,
\nand wonder what the land was about.
\nIts small crevices and moody soul.<\/p>\n
The people who watch their clocks
\nand time their lives.
\nThe cities that sprawl on the featureless terrain,
\nand I would shudder to think
\nthat I lived there,
\nin a solitary cell of plainness,
\nwhen everywhere the world
\ndisplayed the burnt eyes of deserts,
\nthe bracelets of mountains,
\nsavannahs and outbacks,
\nand Taiga and Japanese porcelain.
\nNothing was conquered here,
\nand the beauty of the forests
\nthat lived with sacred secrets,
\nwere burned and cut,
\nand the animals slaughtered
\nwithout sound or fury.<\/p>\n
The aboriginals with their baskets
\nfaded away,
\nand the Ohio land emerged,
\nand I was born in its featureless world,
\nand remain, in love with its homeliness.
\nIt is a place to begin.
\nIt is a place I remember.
\nIt is a place where poems are difficult,
\nand people unimaginative.
\nBut it is home,
\nimprobable in a world with so much sea.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It is plain, flat country. In autumn it\u2019s yellow with wheat. Winter has a dark peacefulness, and the lake to the north is the wall…<\/p>\n