by David Radavich
The brown leaves curl—
it will be a long wait till spring,
even wind seems
to have abandoned earthly
suffering, still
and beneath hope—
mud sinks in the grim weight
of rain and politics,
ideas are exhausted,
the self wants love, love
but clouds deny
even the imagination
its sour
substitutes.
Let us leave this deadening
forest we cannot
leave but somehow find
new life and light
beyond detritus
and the game all spent,
beyond the carousel
of grub and greed.
David Radavich's poetry publications include Slain Species (Court Poetry Press, London), By the Way (Buttonwood Press, 1998), and Great Hits (Pudding House Press, 2000), as well as individual poems in anthologies and magazines. His plays have been performed across the U.S. and abroad, including five Off-Off-Broadway productions. He also enjoys writing essays on poetry, drama, and contemporary issues. His latest book is America Bound: An Epic for Our Time (Plain View Press, 2007).
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