A lovely poem from Minnesota Poetry: Eireann Lorsung's "Knitting," State of the Arts, Minnesota Public Radio
waves circling the enormous globe.)
So much is left out, I'm knitting a pattern without
stitches, without needles, only long fingerbones
to carry yarn. There was something buried
the night I left Eau Claire for good, and I never knew
how it would grow. Now your childhood friends
are my students, I walk past houses you lived in
without my knowledge and your scent trails
from abandoned bakeries. Whole warehouses
have been invented to catalogue want like this.
I go on knitting night and day because I don't know
any other thing. All unknits by darkness
into twine birds use piece by piece. What secret
name can I call you? What adventure are you on tonight?
There is forgetting in the density of raw new wool,
yarn shop one block from your apartment,
the cheap scarf - you don't value things
because you never make them. Moon over the whitening world
sharpens spindle, windowframe. The sash
is pulled, seam is set: without material, there is no map.
"Knitting" in music for landing planes by by Éireann Lorsung (Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 2007). Copyright © 2007 by Éireann Lorsung. Reprinted with permission from Milkweed Editions.
Éireann Lorsung's website, which also features her beautiful artwork, is Ohbara.com.