“The Winters of the Sun”

In Poetry by Lawrence Bridges

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The Winters of the Sun

The same word starts everything: “The…”

Not "I...", as in I write the (something) then

erase it. It's just there to start the writing.

Particulars start the writing.

Like a title that keys no theme

Except an atmosphere, I slip into my clothes.

A doorknob, a checklist, a podcast

On an unsolved murder. I'm a mood

In motion seeking a moment

Caught thrashing against ignorance.

I version the modern art of the Masters

Until my frank persona appears, fearless,

All kidding aside, a chill lassitude

And insouciant defeatism, exhausted.

The Hulk of everyday life ponders,

Fist to chin, elbow swaying with a shopping bag.

Let’s chuck away the beginning and settle in.

It’s a story told by my own face, which

Never looks away or smiles,

Where the title becomes both of us,

The ones with no expectation from the start.

Here's where the recording starts.

About the Author

Lawrence Bridges

Lawrence Bridges is best known for work in the film and literary world. His poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, and The Tampa Review. He has published three volumes of poetry: Horses on Drums, Flip Days, and Brownwood. As a filmmaker, he created a series of literary documentaries for the NEA’s “Big Read” initiative, which include profiles of Ray Bradbury, Amy Tan, Tobias Wolff, and Cynthia Ozick.

Read more work by Lawrence Bridges .