Provo by Sean Watson

Through the window, peaks,
Which to me indoors reveal
The gradient climb ahead.
Stretched muscle fibers
And in my mind, firmness found,
A peak’s vision forth.

But I stand from within an imbedded circle,
And just as sure as the front lawn sidewalks,
So do the ideals of the circle.
From the center to primavera’s fields
The ideals fruition could perpetuate,
But between, the concrete drowns,
Are the sturdy boots lost.
Wholes in man’s mind gape,
Stuffed frantically with disintegrating substance.
The meadows wave free past the gap, if there I can arrive.
A run through the fibers is now. It is outside of motive’s ruin.
From the peak, tomorrow.

The lake’s breast thickens sweet,
But between the circle and the grass,
Where what is real and what is consequential
Dry up as the newborn without suck.
Not because of the mother’s neglect,
But the son’s insisting that better ways he knows.
The lake is nourished by the canyon’s flow,
Which streams from the peaks,
By the window I see,
In the imbedded circle from which I stand.

Yesterday’s body in the field
Is today’s grass,
But the concrete body is never more.

____________________________________________________________________________

Sean Watson is a student of Latin American Studies at BYU who found
power in poetry at a young age. Poetry to him is animism, from human
beings to the walls and meadows they inhabit. He will be spending the
summer at the University of Cambridge researching.

“Provo” is an excerpt from Sean’s longer poem titled “Primavera’s Rise on Falls Mechanical Flake.”   You can visit his blog here.

*contest entry*

3 thoughts on “Provo by Sean Watson”

  1. What a powerful poem.

    I have so many things to say…

    but I’ll stick with the line that held the most power for me–
    “dry up as the newborn without suck. Not because of the mother’s neglect but the son’s insisting that better ways he knows.”

    I feel so much in those lines. Sadness, frustration, but also the joy of accountability, of allowing people to make their own mistakes….

    maybe I’m completely off.

    I loved the image of the concrete drowning, the boots being lost.

    I lived in provo 10 years. I was a student for four of them, my husband worked at the y the other six. And the idea of the circle of honor has always troubled and taunted me a bit. This is a powerful play on that.

    Like

  2. Interesting sprung syntax and ironic turns. I especially like this line:

    A run through the fibers is now. It is outside of motive’s ruin.

    Motive pushes many things off kilter.

    Like

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