Saturday Poem


There are no calls from the outside.
Miracles are the perversity of literature.
We should know that by now.
Only that these never revealed connections of things
lead us oddly on. Caesar's legions
enetering Greenland ice, the scout far in front
wanting to do battle where there are
no enemies,
never were any enemies.

by Jim Harrison

from Selected & New Poems;
Dell Publishing, 1982