Jared Carter

Max Beckmann

Within each tube a presence more
          than hue – something 
Remote, but willing to restore
          itself, and cling

To canvas, slowly making marks
          with what is still 
No more than dust. As in the dark
          a candle will,

When lighted, sometimes show the lines
          of someone’s face
Emerging, after all this time,
          from empty space.


Chiron and Achilles

Touch, that he taught, whether on string
          of bow or lyre –
Light, that was always beckoning
          through wind and fire

To launch the two of them across
          the mountainside –
Herbs to be gathered, darkened moss,
          and yarrow, pride

Of green leaves that can close up wounds.
          And at the last,
That there are far-off towns, broad dunes,
          and oceans vast.

Jared Carter’s most recent book of poems, The Land Itself, is from Monongahela Books in West Virginia.  He lives in Indiana.