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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.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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