Another Thing

By David Mason b. 1954 David Mason
Like fossil shells embedded in a stone,
you are an absence, rimmed calligraphy,
a mouthing out of silence, a way to see
beyond the bedroom where you lie alone.
So why not be the vast, antipodal cloud
you soloed under, riven by cold gales?
And why not be the song of diving whales,
why not the plosive surf   below the road?

The others are one thing. They know they are.
One compass needle. They have found their way
and navigate by perfect cynosure.
Go wreck yourself once more against the day
and wash up like a bottle on the shore,
lucidity and salt in all you say.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2013).

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This poem originally appeared in the July/August 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

July/August 2013
 David  Mason

Biography

A teacher and editor, David Mason was born and raised in Bellingham, Washington. He earned a BA from Colorado College and an MA and PhD from the University of Rochester in New York. Mason’s collections of poetry include The Buried Houses (1991), winner of the Nicholas Roerich Poetry Prize; The Country I Remember (1996), winner of the Alice Fay Di Castagnola Award; Arrivals (2004); and the verse novel Ludlow (2007), awarded the . . .

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POET’S REGION U.S., Western

Poetic Terms Sonnet

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