spine poem #9

The widening spell
of the
leaves,

my life corrupted
into song.
Pure,

unattainable earth where
now, as
ever,

testimony is music
beginning with
O…

spine poem #8

“Spring shade, spring essence.”
Song of the departed stranger.

Music, imitations, illuminations.

To be the poet even in quiet
places: Turtle Island, Flower
Wreath Hill, backroads
to far towns…

spine poem #7

Overtime field work,
temporary help:
why aren’t you at work?

This afternoon, while looking for something else, I stumbled on the site where I first encountered book spine poems: Stan Carey’s Sentence First. He’s been at it since 2010, inspired by artist Nina Katchadourian’s Sorted Books project, which she began back in 1993.

spine poem #6

Mermaids in the basement
howl ravishing disunities: these
are not sweet girls.

spine poem #5

Locusts at the edge of
summer, harping on all day.

Permanent red blood:
tin, straw, ashes.

For breakfast: scrambled
eggs and whiskey.

spine poem #4

Bedouin of the London
evening, nobody’s
Ezekiel, seeing

things of no country
I know. Things

stirring together
or far away, imaginary
vessels, terrible blooms.

spine poem #3

Stealing sugar
from the castle,
playing the black
piano, passing
through broken
hierarchies: the heart

          is strange.

spine poem #2

Oceanic codes,
appearing in
the middle distance
above the river, tug
the great enigma from
one life to another.

spine poem #1

The novice insomniac, sleeping
with the dictionary, calling a wolf
a wolf…

My vocabulary did this to me.

It’s National Poetry Month. Since I am one of the Unacknowledged Legislators of the World, I suppose I should do what I can to promote poetry.

So this month, I will post the occasional “book spine poem,” composed of titles from my poetry collection…

The first follows soon.