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Unknow the Dying Sea

In my fever, I wrote along the margins

unknow the dying sea and in high winds

the will & testament I’d been preparing,

unconsciously, went flying behind the barracks.

Most of its sentences I found easily

but some had ingested the thorn,

and a few like this one I never found again.

Stranger, let’s be one another

in magnified senses one a blue fragment,

the prize just some long hair behind us

or be one absence together stown away

and let us become the periphery of what we said

knowing was, before I thought the piano

upright against the yellow wall brought forth

a figure in the mind consonant with part

of the universe has that striking fuzz

and periphery, mammal or fledgling gentle

or a question so dense it can knock seven times

secret tones from wire’s worn suspense

but it is the piano’s hammer

shaped like a teardrop (it is a teardrop)

or flame (it is a flame).

from Poetry Northwest WEBMore by Ed Skoog from the library

Copyright © Ed Skoog
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.

Published in Ed Skoog Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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