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Dearest, note how these two are alike:

This harpsicord pavane by Purcell

And the racer’s twelve-speed bike.

The machinery of grace is always simple.

This chrome trapezoid, one wheel connected

To another of concentric gears,

Which Ptolemy dreamt of and Schwinn perfected,

Is gone. The cyclist, not the cycle, steers.

And in the playing, Purcell’s chords are played away.

So this talk, or touch if I were there,

Should work its effortless gadgetry of love,

Like Dante’s heaven, and melt into the air.

If it doesn’t, of course, I’ve fallen. So much is chance,

So much agility, desire, and feverish care,

As bicyclists and harpsicordists prove

Who only by moving can balance,

Only by balancing move.

Michael Donaghy, “Machines” from Dances Learned Last Night: Poems 1975-1995. Copyright © 2000 by Michael Donaghy. Reprinted with the permission of Macmillan.

Source: Poetry (September 1988).

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MORE FROM THIS ISSUE

This poem originally appeared in the September 1988 issue of Poetry magazine

• Circe
  by Tina Barr
• The Pretender
  by Jim Peterson
• Just To Love the Dog
  by Jim Simmerman

• September 1988 Table of Contents
• Subscribe to Poetry magazine
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More about this poem

Biography

Donaghy was born in New York to Irish immigrant parents and grew up in the Bronx. After earning a BA from Fordham University and an MA from the University of Chicago, he moved to London in 1985. In England he won an Arts Council Writers Award and was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature; his work was recognized with the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize and the Whitbread Prize. In addition to writing and teaching, he played . . .

Continue reading this biography

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Poems by Michael Donaghy

• Cage,
• Machines

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Music, Arts & Sciences, Sports & Outdoor Activities, Activities

POET’S REGION England

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