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David Wagoner took on the Pacific Northwest
Two poems: “Lost” and “Do Not Proceed Beyond this Point Without a Guide”
Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Do Not Proceed Beyond This Point without a Guide
The official warning, nailed to a hemlock,
Doesn’t say why. I stand with my back to it,
Afraid I’ve come as far as I can
By being stubborn, and look
Downward for miles at the hazy crags and spurs.
A rubble-covered ridge like a bombed stairway
Leads up beyond the sign. It doesn’t
Seem any worse than what I’ve climbed already.
Why should I have to take a guide along
To watch me scaring myself to death?
What was it I wanted? A chance to look around
On a high rock already named and numbered
By somebody else? A chance to shout
Over the heads of people who quit sooner?
Shout what? I can’t go tell it on the mountain.
I sit for a while, raking the dead leaves
Out of my lungs and traveling lightheaded
Downward again in my mind’s eye, till there’s nothing
Left of my feet but rags and bones
And nothing to look down on but my shoes.
The closer I come to it, the harder it is to doubt
How well this mountain can take me or leave me.
The hemlock had more sense. It stayed where it was,
Grew up and down at the same time, branch and root,
Being a guide instead of needing one.
David Wagoner
David Wagoner (1926-2021) was an American poet and novelist best known for verse exploring Pacific Northwest landscapes and natural beauty. Although his early poetry focused on his life and experiences growing up in Massillon, OH, when Wagoner moved to Washington State, at the suggestion of his friend, mentor, and fellow poet Theodore Roethke (1908-1963), he acknowledged the move precipitated a maturity in his craft and voice. Wagoner also wrote 10 novels, including The Escape Artist, which was made into a film by its executive producer Francis Ford Coppola.
Here's something you might be interested in.
David Wagoner took on the Pacific Northwest
Two poems: “Lost” and “Do Not Proceed Beyond this Point Without a Guide”
David Wagoner took on the Pacific Northwest
Two poems: “Lost” and “Do Not Proceed Beyond this Point Without a Guide”
Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Do Not Proceed Beyond This Point without a Guide
The official warning, nailed to a hemlock,
Doesn’t say why. I stand with my back to it,
Afraid I’ve come as far as I can
By being stubborn, and look
Downward for miles at the hazy crags and spurs.
A rubble-covered ridge like a bombed stairway
Leads up beyond the sign. It doesn’t
Seem any worse than what I’ve climbed already.
Why should I have to take a guide along
To watch me scaring myself to death?
What was it I wanted? A chance to look around
On a high rock already named and numbered
By somebody else? A chance to shout
Over the heads of people who quit sooner?
Shout what? I can’t go tell it on the mountain.
I sit for a while, raking the dead leaves
Out of my lungs and traveling lightheaded
Downward again in my mind’s eye, till there’s nothing
Left of my feet but rags and bones
And nothing to look down on but my shoes.
The closer I come to it, the harder it is to doubt
How well this mountain can take me or leave me.
The hemlock had more sense. It stayed where it was,
Grew up and down at the same time, branch and root,
Being a guide instead of needing one.
David Wagoner
David Wagoner (1926-2021) was an American poet and novelist best known for verse exploring Pacific Northwest landscapes and natural beauty. Although his early poetry focused on his life and experiences growing up in Massillon, OH, when Wagoner moved to Washington State, at the suggestion of his friend, mentor, and fellow poet Theodore Roethke (1908-1963), he acknowledged the move precipitated a maturity in his craft and voice. Wagoner also wrote 10 novels, including The Escape Artist, which was made into a film by its executive producer Francis Ford Coppola.
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