THREE POEMS BY JANE DURRELL
LONG TIME GONE
Who cried, in that other time from now,
Whose heart hurt, unhealed, until
Bliss intruded, out of nowhere,
and then was gone again.
Old carings, rustling like cicada shells
Form intact, being gone
THOUGHTS GOING SOUTH ON I-75
I cannot read in Tennessee
The mountains claim my eye.
Within their airy outer layers
Cloud-clothed and feathered green
Each hides a city’s worth of uncut stone
A heart without a beat and seldom seen.
But somewhere, on a hill and oddly graced,
Is the jar that Wallace Stevens placed.
KENTUCKY REMEMBERED FROM OHIO, AND VICE VERSA
Place names of America
Free the mind for traveling.
I myself, this afternoon, passed through
And yesterday went straight ahead
Although the signpost promised
Paris to the right,
Winchester to the left.