Ink Bottle Poems

by Robert Sund

In Praise of My Ink Bottle

1

Life flows on, I go from place to place.

I carry this ink bottle with me

         wherever I go.

2

At the dinner table in some friends’ house,

eating and drinking wine, I look down

and see the ink on my fingers

The Table I Keep

This is the table I keep.

This is my warm spot in the world.

A table to

rest my ink bottle on.

A table

with other tables inside it.

The ink wanting to be heard.

Ink whose body is a river,

whose fullness is

to be joined with other waters.

The ocean,

rolling landward

comes home

one river at a time,

cresting and breaking into song.

Each day at my table

I hear the heartsong

       and the lament,

as one by one

the rivers come home.

Afternoon Light

Afternoon light

         shining through

the flowers on the porch.

Through the open front door

         summer has stepped in

My ink bottle falls in love

         with

         the world

                  again.

*

New brushes in a jar

             looking at me

                          like strangers.

*

I woke up with

     last night’s ink on

               my fingers,

and the birds were

     singing a

               fresh new song.

From Poems from Ish River Country, Washington, D.C.: Shoemaker & Hoard, 2004, pages 81, 189, 216, and 253, except for “New brushes in a jar” and “I woke up with,” both from Notes from Disappearing Lake: The River Journals of Robert Sund, New York: Pleasure Boat Studios, 2012, pages 11 and 47.