Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico (1941) by Ansel Adams let us then say slate black black as night let us then heave a chalk-white bird across the screeching nightboard motor running across the darkened lake of time leaving a wake in the Irish sense of it this is not a silence, then we're deeper into it than silence now the timeless children have gone home for endless summer we're sweeping the weary floorboards we're rearranging the wobbly desks bailing the water with old, rusty coffee cans drunk on nothing we can name the band is playing anyway there aren't enough boats in the garden the garden is full of vines everything is entangled in these come autumn we may have something to say again
Schoolhouse as Titanic? A dream poem?