The Life of Ann Griffith Lindsey
The Angel of Back East
The Angel of Back East sings delirious,
drunken hymns in my ear, pulling me toward
pine crowded hills and cold, rushing streams
of poetry which I had forgotten and left
in the shadows of my mother's house.
I put the cool, dark landscape behind me
and crash blindly out onto the plains
of the denuded, storm flattened midwest -
the victim of one incomprehensible image
after another. I lay my battered head on
my seraph's transparent breast and tell her
not to patronize me; as far as I can tell,
reality began the night Walt Disney died -
and rose again from the dusty place
the day I moved to Indiana.
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2012.06.07
I met her while attending Purdue University (1982-1987) and she inspires me still (6/7/12). How nice it would be to have her around still. I recite a poem of hers (by heart):
The Angel of Back East
The Angel of Back East sings delirious, drunken hymns in my ear
pulling me toward pine crowded hills and cold, rushing streams of poetry
that I had forgotten and left in the shadows of my mother's house.
I put the cool, dark landscape behind me and crash blindly out onto the plains of the denuded, storm flattened midwest-
the victim of one incomprehensible image after another. I lay my battered head on
my seraph's transparent and tell her not to patronize me; as far as I can tell,
reality began the night Walt Disney died-
and rose again from the dusty place
the day I moved to Indiana.
Posted by David C