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New Poem by Philip Gross

Eyewear is very fortunate today to be able to celebrate its 5th anniversary month with an unpublished poem by TS Eliot winner for this year, Philip Gross.

Switching On The Collider

And what if the click of that switch
            (Did you notice the date:
            10.09.08… like a countdown?)
had thrown us
                        the universe
      into reverse?

If we were surfing backwards,
            the crest of the wave
            refurling into itself,
would, or rather
                         could we know
      as every cell reverts?

We’d have to say this in Aymaran 
            (the past, they figured
            as before them,
the future
                        a vague whispering
behind). Reeling back

to the moment we met (Yes,
            this is a love song
            that starts with the End)
would we be possessed
                        by an almost
inkling we’d already known

a life together… which,
            come to think of it,
            was precisely what
we did feel
                        falling
into recognition, each of each, ten years ago?


for ZĂ©lie

Comments

Phil Brown said…
The more I read this, the more I realize how damn good it is.

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THE WINNER OF THE SIXTH FORTNIGHT PRIZE IS...



Wheeler Light for 'Life Jacket'.

The runner-up is: Daniel Duffy - 'President Returns To New York For Brief First Visit'

Wheeler Light currently lives in Boulder, Colorado.



Life Jacket

summer camp shirtsI couldn’t fit in then
are half my size nowI wanted to wear
smaller and smallerarticles of clothing
I shrunk to the sizethat disappeared

of an afterthoughtin a sinking ship body
too buoyant to sinktoo waterlogged for land
I becamea dot of sand

JOHN ASHBERY HAS DIED

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Over the past few years, we have lost most of the truly great of our era: Edwin Morgan, Gunn, Hill, Heaney and Walcott, to name just five.  There are many more, of course. This is news too sad and deep to fathom this week.  I will write more perhaps later. 

I had a letter from Ashbery on my wall, and it inspired me daily.  He gave me advice for my PhD. He said kind things about a poetry book of mine.

He was a force for good serious play in poetry, and his appeal great. So many people I know and admire are at a loss this week because of his death. It is no consolation at present to think of the many thousands of living poets, just right now. But impressively, and even oddly, poetry itself seems to keep flowing.