Rural Summer

Poem written on a small piece of paper found in Bobs copy of Gilbert Sorrentino's White Sail. Probably written by Bob Tagge.

I went to see if it showed:
the sun’s position, swallows under the gutter.

Difficult to say.
All those empty barns. Land everywhere

this landscape started to be
and lots in it
that was beyond repair.

Had not only come here
but also overtaken
I was

an acre carried to this head
to have been for this acre.
This led to sand and stones
and I lay there
until the rain came.

Nobody who can remember
what may still be gathered
and dried with care.