Tipton Poetry Journal – Fall 2020
Once I Was Old Gary Barkow Once I was old in a pasture of speech where grasses sound the human silence. Words and knees on the floor of my heart, and every prayer a breeze of insect talk and spider silks heralding the morning glories. Soon the cows come talk to the pond, and Pond listens. Distinctions at the pond are ornamental — Pond does not judge. When I was a child, my mom was the pond — even now, I squeal her silly sounds when prairie dogs kiss. I’ll build no fence around my pond. Dear Future, you’re invited: I’ll write a poem in a puddle when I don’t like now; I’ll insect talk and spider silk a lotus from my sorrow. I press my heart to Jesus and offer my will. I share my silly mom with Jesus and press my heart again.
Gary Barkow lives in Colorado, studies mathematics and practices Tai Chi Ch’uan. He walks around feeling loved and keeps a flashlight by his futon in case he has a brilliant idea at night. He doesn’t know where poetry comes from or why mathematics so exquisitely obtains to the universe, so enjoys the mystery.
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