Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

David Brooks

Eschatology

Eschatology

Eschatology

Mind
dwells on apocalypse,
the body digs

the shutting of a gate,
the turning of a sod, a page
once done is
done, a work complete

the change,
the travelling
come down to this,
the great circle of days,
recurrence of the simplest things.

Between two slabs
I dig a wine-cellar,
floor it with brick,
wall it
with brick and board

soon I will stock it, build
a new shed over it,
soon
the eggplants will rise, tomatoes
push up behind the basil,
and my child will be walking.

You write from California
astonished at my faith in Things

What can I say?

There is a place, a border
where chill leaves the words,
where even the fire leaves
and all that is said becomes hopeless.

Deeper still
there is a place where it begins again.
Close

Eschatology

Mind
dwells on apocalypse,
the body digs

the shutting of a gate,
the turning of a sod, a page
once done is
done, a work complete

the change,
the travelling
come down to this,
the great circle of days,
recurrence of the simplest things.

Between two slabs
I dig a wine-cellar,
floor it with brick,
wall it
with brick and board

soon I will stock it, build
a new shed over it,
soon
the eggplants will rise, tomatoes
push up behind the basil,
and my child will be walking.

You write from California
astonished at my faith in Things

What can I say?

There is a place, a border
where chill leaves the words,
where even the fire leaves
and all that is said becomes hopeless.

Deeper still
there is a place where it begins again.

Eschatology

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
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