question

 

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And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know?  

—Carl Sandburg
Good Morning America, 1928

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Autumn Movement

 

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 I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things
       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,
       not one lasts.


—Carl Sandburg

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this will be all?

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And this will be all?

And the gates will never open again?

And the dust and the wind will play around the rusty door

hinges and the songs of October moan, Why-oh, why-oh?

And you will look to the mountains

And the mountains will look to you

And you will wish you were a mountain

And the mountain will wish nothing at all?

  This will be all?

The gates will never-never open again?

The dust and the wind only

And the rusty door hinges and moaning October

And Why-oh, why-oh, in the moaning dry leaves,

  This will be all?

Nothing in the air but songs

And no singers, no mouths to know the songs?

You tell us a woman with a heartache tells you it is so?

  This will be all?

–Carl Sandburg

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