Monday, January 14, 2008

Lull















Tracing a Thirst
for Ed  Foster

called it: tracing a
thirst, the poem
as it

sluices a
passage; with each,
dry

utterance, edges
towards its
own

ob-
fuscated source.  no,
not the

world, the
world's, but,
per-

haps, its 
very
postulate.  what the

winds
would lap and the
tongue,

ultimately,
muscle: breath, like
so

many
empty bubbles, brought
to

that pleated lip.


by Gustaf Sobin



Snow delay here. Quiet is falling outside, big clumps of it. How long can it last.
Sobin is a poet I'd not heard of until an acquaintance recommended his work. His book, By the Bias of Sound: Selected Poems, wasn't easy to find. I had to search out the Small Press Distributors folks. He lives in France, according to the book.   I'm reading on.  Here's a short bit from a longish poem.

Sudden Essays on Shadows and Substance

      if the shadow points
it's because the    shadow's drawn;   drawn  I
        call it 'you,'  'yours,'
when it's never yours         but

the glint you make      that pulls the shadow through...

   







1 comment:

Anonymous said...

That's a great photograph. Keep it up!!!