The first book ends by asking the wind to speak.
The second book begins with a snake’s shed skin.
Between the books the ocean dug deeper its depth,
& noon found within its shadowless height the saffron
Thread of another dawn. The reader reads.
The dreamer dreams. Both are the same man
In the same bed, though they’ve never met—
The reader, the dreamer, these chalky cliffs
On the far sides of the same sea. The wind
Seeks a syllable in the distances of sleep—
A frigatebird skims the waves without moving
Once a dark wing, & the sibilant S
Lisps with a forked tongue secrets about the past
Tense, & the future of the sun. The gap is full of hiss.
Dan Beachy-Quick is a poet, essayist, and translator.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
