Diane Corson, Floating Flowers
“civilian now in wheat fields”
In the Horse Heaven Hills
that part that is a dream motorcycle ride
wide open the turn where you slow down and dream
you are no longer there the drift of rain
in your eyes thunder or artillery faint
barely yellow flashes your heart felt the reverberation
a civilian now in wheat fields tawny yellow sun faint faraway
mother if you could see this
wind felt forehead sixty miles flat out
girl hugging chest horse white roof red
traveling gorgeous fields open to heaven
______________________
Zeke Sanchez
Review by Dave Mehler
This poem is so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes. It deserves to be read and an immortality similar to that of Snyder’s Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout, or Hemingway’s Nick Adams’ post-war stories. That’s really all I can say about it. Depth of feeling barely uttered, simplicity in combination of images, no wasted words.