Δευτέρα, 21 Νοεμβρίου 2016















What Kind of Times Are These



There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted.



I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled

this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.



I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods

meeting the unmarked strip of light-
ghost-ridden crosswords, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.



And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.






by Andrienne Rich
from Collected Poems 1950-2012