Two poems by Justin Vernon today, both from Issue Ten. A third piece, “Mother’s Day 1990,” is only available in the print edition, paired with “Dementia,” a poem by Gil Vernon. Both father and son are publishing for the first time.
Issue Ten and Archive, our first book, are out now. The magazine is on tour!
Appomattox (the Tenements Caved)
by Justin Vernon
How I can’t escape
The thing I can’t claim
I’m not what I make
And all the lights
And all the cable
The two vans
The admat
The rider
The candles . . .
all those people
Are not for
me
They’re for
some old light
That strains to be
Under a sagging money tree
Yeah, it’s been a climb
And it’s felt prescribed
I know the headlines
Were a test
Rock and roll
In the deep freezer
In the dark
under hard plates of meat
Could’ve or Should’ve
by Justin Vernon
_______,
_______ & Ezmeil are digging at the yard with their
pawsI watch them smiling and screaming and laughing And digging in the dirt
The sun is gnawing at the woodshed
the healthiest paceIf I can’t taste your mouth again
I will fill that big hole in the garden
I’ll grow flowers on the mound and never pretend it didn’t happen
I’ll be fine, _______.
JUSTIN VERNON is a guy from Wisconsin, the son of Justine and Gil, and brother of Kim and Nate.
Reading on your phone? Here are the proper line breaks.
Loving the second one especially. Reading it on my balcony while sun is setting and birds sing, and garden is still a ‘yet to be’, time between winter and spring — how is it called? A little bit like this poem.
This is gorgeous.