Kingsport Harmony
Charles Wright
That landscape—unpeopled, unburiable, sun-stunned—
Lifts me re-orphaned out of language
Into the nomenclature of stones,
unangeled, unsought-for.
Time will not change a word of this,
nor slow its architecture
Of buzzing fly and whispering wasp,
Time, the great engulfer, time,
with its louche mouth and lisping tongue.
