Carol Dorf

Carol Dorf

Through a Certain Declivity of Fires
(after Mallarmé)

Ashes of books floated
down to our deck; scrap
of recipe, of romance, of natural
disaster (please define). Rain
washed through the burn area,
soil cascading down the washes,
down the sewers, what remains?

Throw of the dice, though
there must be someone
to blame, someone to pay.
Time outside of time, in the shelter,
in a hotel, in someone’s
living room. Settlements,
rebuilding, all much improved.

 

The Purpose of Harmony

Hard to say what this means with all the wind.
The chamber players are all 9th graders—
some are confused about the rhythms,
others about the bowings, and a few
about both. Even the clothing requires
consultation—exactly what is concert wear,
and how will we get our homework done.
One would like to write a transcendent
conclusion, and the 12th graders will get there,
but the 9th graders approach harmony
like jagged switchbacks up to the waterfall.
Northeast winds will dry out the hills;
fortunately we are a long way from fire season.

—Carol Dorf

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Faces of the East Bay