Gethsemane



Bob Dylan steps
into a wind-squinting Americana painting

Chronos opens his sinkholes
and the lutefisk-faced laureate
drags all his ages behind him
in the jetstream’s coiling after-sound

Kallax flickers below

Old tinctures are stirred again –
songs revolving, recombining –
the last dark sweetness pressed
from the bard

He keeps arriving in New York
as Jesus keeps arriving in Gethsemane

a stillness moving

and I, futile,
tilt the pen
into the weight of time





Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 69 times
Written on 2026-03-17 at 10:27

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