by Charles Weld
surveyed, Moore relayed how the fall
before his men,
digging sand in a hollow up the hill,
had uncovered a
parcel of snakes, knit loosely, a ball,
striped, and black together. The men killed
them all, then
stretched their bodies out head to tail
in a line on the
ground and measured it. Several
Moore said. The common practice when
are found, Thoreau noted.
of their lengths
farmer to farmer.
Numbers have a quality that often
mustering particulars into its army
and moving them
through formation and drill until
they’ve lost their
edge, that sharp intractability
that eludes orders
of magnitude, sequence, and scale.
Weld’s poems have been collected in two chapbooks, Country I Would
Settle In (Pudding House, 2004), and Who Cooks For You?
(Kattywompus, 2012.), and in many small magazines such as Southern
Poetry Review, Evansville Review, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily,
The Concord Saunterer, Friends Journal, Blue Unicorn,
Canary, etc. A collection, Seringo, will be published
later this year by White Violet Press (Kelsay Books.) He’s worked as an
administrator for a nonprofit agency that provides treatment for youth
experiencing mental health challenges, and lives in the Finger Lakes region of
upstate New York.