spine poem #9: hay(na)ku

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?

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

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

My vocabulary did this to me.

spine poem #2

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

          is strange.

I first encountered book spine poems at Stan Carey’s blog, 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 #1

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