The Rock

 

Behold this girth

Now like a boulder giving birth

Born from the earth

Until nature’s mason carved its face

And cleaved a throne of granite

To this place

As bare and beautiful

As any monument could grace

Resounding presence like a drummer’s beat

A silent sentry guarding Samuel Street

 

Ted Goodell

February 20, 2012

Amentia

 

To form what flames and burns

And embers still,

That still lights,

Lingers with outstretched fingers

The elbow bends and bends

And arms reach yonder,

Around what circle or pit,

For each abyss,

We who convey each step,

Pause and nod

Wordless as we ponder this

Strange presence of what remains child,

Yet vows to unfold what can

Never be child,

Can never beyond what touches

Those nerves

And touches the eyes and the mouth

Into shapes that descend

With the dread years

Of stubbornness,

That laughs at the thick

Fabric blurring the sun.

 

Ted Goodell

1966

 

 

 

The Thumb

(to Lianne)

 

The thumb rules a quartet of fingers

Unique yet different

Present but apart

Smaller than its four companions

But for strength reveals a necessary compensation

Especially when noting how the fingers

While branching from the palm

Can wiggle and expand

And often they are musically inclined

And delicate when tapping out a tune

At once the stalwart thumb

Resists such anatomical temptations

Trusting to its job of isolating power

When shoveling trenches

In the earth

Or hoisting rocks

Or raising flags

For then the thumb prevails in fame

And lends the hand

A second brain

 

Ted Goodell

July 27, 2014

It’s About Time

 

Time never wastes a minute

You cannot find time

Hiding in the dark

Or making promises

It cannot keep

Not even when the world

Is reeling from the rain

Or whirling in the wind

Time never fears the flames

For time can even

Make the sun look small

And turn the Earth

Into a spinning ball

And finally

Put each book away

Even if a page is torn

 

Ted Goodell

December 12, 2014