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A poem by Ann Darr

A Divining Rod

I have ruined our campsite by sinking a well. Dowsed for it with a forked stick that carried a stone, a pit, a cherry, and when the pull was strong, we staked the spot and called the rig. Never mind that the pull was strong an equal number of steps from wherever I began. Meaning water is everywhere. And fire is deeper still. And someday I shall dowse for fire, and not be satisfied until hell breaks loose.

Ann Darr

(1920 - 2007)

Listen to Ann Darr read her poem (13.18).

This poem first appeared in Anne Darr's first collection St. Ann's Gut (1971) which is freely available on the Internet Archive site.

#ann darr #american poetry #a divining rod

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Must you be mad to write? Out of touch with meanings that preserve your skin? Soaring blindly, with no map back, lost even to yourself? especially to yourself? If this is the entry price, the cost of lying flat on pages till the books are burnt, only a fool would buy a ticket. But they were giving passes away the day I came upon words, and oh my god the sound was what my ache was named.

Ann Darr, “To Write”

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