By Miles Nance ’24
Poetry Month, inspired by the national recognitions of Black History Month and Woman’s History Month, was established in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets. Celebrating one of the most popular forms of literature, the month serves to garner growth in poetry readership while also celebrating existing poets and contributors year-round. Poetry Month stands as a lasting and fruitful effort to boaster acknowledge poetry’s important role in society.
I’m Miles Nance, a junior at St. Paul’s. I submitted these pieces for poetry month as a way of recognizing the importance of poetry in my life. For me, poetry serves as both an outlet for my creativity and a source of tranquility and composure. I figure that feeling, even partially, should be shared with others. I’m most inspired by the work of Li-Young Lee and his 1986 book, Rose.
body of a wasteland
desert crosses lightyear’s length to a horizon under the red sun,
sky’s mist protrudes through his skin,
undertones face the mono-maroon light,
a cry escapes,
the tear is burned as if to leave no tracks.
its eyes’ piercing glares dart down and land in the grains of sand,
a sizzle amounts to a squeak,
a ball of dust fizzles,
his knees plummet to a broken drum’s beat,
vision rests on him,
time stops but a moment,
the desert rains as if to cry.
its heart thumps a radius of flowery rush sweeping along the flats,
the ground dances to match its arteries,
mango populates the dirt’s cracks,
breeze swims around him,
a bird chirps,
the ‘desert’ emerges as if to ripen.
its hand undoes its balled knuckles and reveals a calloused palm,
daisies fall from its fingertips,
gravity loosens,
petals swing in the air,
an exhale releases,
legs extend against the earth,
he walks as if to rewind time.
its mouth reverbs a raging bass which rushes through the wax canal,
flowers die as birth: a speeding bullet,
mist thickens,
breeze turns to gust,
he stands as the center,
he rips his arms as if to detangle.
its soul cracks and shifts around the weight of metamorphosis,
a beckon cries a lullaby,
fresh life peeks over the hill,
ants crawl,
sweet happenings disjoin,
he longs as if to think of desert..
evolution of need
gold, almost transparent rays fall from above, yelling ‘love’ down through the hole
that lands in my
barren mass of thought.
i’ll paint it with oil
and frame such a sight
in the sistine chapel:
you,
me,
and what you helped me find.
now, however, does the shadow cast find shine greater than you, and i almost forgot what makes those dark corners so
potent
yet unable to retain me,
a retreat as if
to say ‘sorry’
of what lasts, a call resembling
the sound of a boomerang,
a view shapeshifting from gallery to fridge, as i trace the rays’
outline with my other hand, shaking.
tips to consume!
1. trust the process
the creation of a rare diamond
from your too-common rough,
knocking you down to lend a hand,
welding you into my image,
our image,
is a long way from oppression;
it’s just a matter of wanting.
2. have ambition
it’s not enough to recycle desire like
bottled water—doing your part—you
must also watch them pack their things
and descent from the elevator,
cardboard box of belongings in hand,
the only reason to say the phrase
‘office life’
3. don’t look up
like only lengthy ocean,
the responsibility flows through all,
and to put down an application
or pick up a union pamphlet
is a horror far worse
than my oil spill,
which might I remind you was an accident.
4. protect freedom
despite the unconditional love, opportunity
that sprouts from our fountain,
its laminal flow granting a kiss to the retina,
some may end up closing their eyes.
only then do we block the nozzle;
they don’t deserve to consume.
Leave a Reply