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Mountain Modes: Seven Dulcimer Poems

Mountain Modes: Seven Dulcimer Poems FEATURED AUTHOR--POETRY Mountain Modes: Seven Dulcimer Eo_£ms_ Jeff Mann 1. AEOLIAN In this mode fog is gathering C minor in walnut dells. The leaves drop, yellow moisture, cast off so discourteously. Amidst New England asters, another wayfaring stranger shoulders his delicate dulcimer, strings loosened so as not to snap in cold or loneliness. He falls in love only with all he knows is leaving soon. The odd thatch of black hair on the outer flank of the hand, the small smooth spot on a chest otherwise pelted: details only the reverent retain. Aeolian autumn is stunning the pastures, fingerpicking the first threat of frost, a fragile dew. A man in the city stands on a rooftop in a Sargasso of rooftops; a soldier in the Sahara reads letters from West Virginia and squints with salt. Wayfarers insulate themselves as best they can, in denim, in leather, in another generation's scraps, the pieced salvation of quilts, the memories of commensal body heat. They move in minor keys towards hearths whose fuel they themselves with straining backs in dream provide, towards broad beds alone, towards mulled cider and soup-beans, a family graveyard, a mountain tune. 2. LOCRIAN Where is there http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Mountain Modes: Seven Dulcimer Poems

Mann, Jeff.
Appalachian Review , Volume 34 (3) – Jan 8, 2006
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
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Abstract

FEATURED AUTHOR--POETRY Mountain Modes: Seven Dulcimer Eo_£ms_ Jeff Mann 1. AEOLIAN In this mode fog is gathering C minor in walnut dells. The leaves drop, yellow moisture, cast off so discourteously. Amidst New England asters, another wayfaring stranger shoulders his delicate dulcimer, strings loosened so as not to snap in cold or loneliness. He falls in love only with all he knows is leaving soon. The odd thatch of black hair on the outer flank of the hand, the small smooth spot on a chest otherwise pelted: details only the reverent retain. Aeolian autumn is stunning the pastures, fingerpicking the first threat of frost, a fragile dew. A man in the city stands on a rooftop in a Sargasso of rooftops; a soldier in the Sahara reads letters from West Virginia and squints with salt. Wayfarers insulate themselves as best they can, in denim, in leather, in another generation's scraps, the pieced salvation of quilts, the memories of commensal body heat. They move in minor keys towards hearths whose fuel they themselves with straining backs in dream provide, towards broad beds alone, towards mulled cider and soup-beans, a family graveyard, a mountain tune. 2. LOCRIAN Where is there

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2006

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