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Birds & Poems

April 30, 2010

Another luminous poem by Don McKay, in honor of Poetry Month and also in honor of the upcoming Migration Month, which happens to be May in these parts. This poem is from McKay’s collection Apparatus (1997). And here’s to hoping that I’ll actually get to see a wood thrush soon.

Song for the Song of the Wood Thrush

For the following few seconds, while the ear
inhales the evening
only the offhand is acceptable. Poetry
clatters. The old contraption pumping
iambs in my chest is going to take a break
and sing a little something. What? Not much. There’s
a sorrow that’s so old and silver it’s no longer
sorry. There’s a place
between desire and memory, some back porch
we can neither wish for nor recall.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. May 5, 2010 10:28 pm

    Now that’s a fine poem!

  2. May 6, 2010 8:51 am

    Glad you like it. Don McKay is a serious genius.

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