I Met a Man
traveling with a small pack on his back
who said he was from the land of Nod
and invited me along
a path that none had taken yet
and that led between tall trees
and then he turned and nearly disappeared
he traveled with such speed
but we kept a pace together we did
headed toward the edge of things
He told me of his life on the road
like a thread woven into a cloak
with a pattern that mixes red and greens
in the aura of a wide meadow
threaded with a wandering stream
That life kept nothing from each town
but what would fit in his hand
and he opened it now so that
I might see
he held nothing
but the warmth of the sun
And he offered it to me
a golden coin in the pool of his palm
and I carry it still in my small pack
and look it’s here for you
The Other Life
My eyes cannot penetrate the rain
cannot see beyond the canopy of elephant-ear leaves
but beneath a jungle breathes
in thick wet mumblings
and everywhere in this paradise
there are enemies
I carry my life on my back
with an ammo belt
and kiss the metal fruit
of dangling grenades
walking the perimeter of another life
where the palms burn orange like candles
It is a place I have never been
curled up in my dorm room
studying Nietzsche of an afternoon
undefeated invincible in fact
nested in the in-between
waiting for the bell of history
Remembering does not free me
from the metal sting the burning
or tearing of lead
The serpent turns to swallow its tail
and I stand at the other end
drinking from a muddy stream
George Moore’s recent collections include Saint Agnes Outside the Walls (FurureCycle 2016) and Children’s Drawings of the Universe (Salmon Poetry 2015). Poems have appeared in The Atlantic, Poetry, Orion, Arc, Colorado Review, and Stand. He is a six-time nominee for the Pushcart Prize, and has been shortlisted for the Bailieborough Poetry Prize and long-listed for the Gregory O’Donoghue Poetry Prize and the Ginkgo Prize. He lives with his wife, also a poet, on the south shore of Nova Scotia.
