Gustaf Sobin - Collected Poems - Talisman House - 2010

I've ordered it, but I don't have Sobin's Collected Poems yet, so reposting today's poem from Poetry Daily will have to do until it gets here. I've been thinking about this book, and asking about it, since I first heard word a cople years ago that it was going to be published by Talisman.  And now the wait is down to days.


According to Seneca


... every wind, according to
Seneca, has
its
origins in some deep-
seated stellar configuration. once, every
word, its every

blown
vocable, came rippling out of an else-

where that
was. edge, then, towards what? you, who'd
scraped pebbles, goaded
shadows, hover,
now, in the

coves of imploded
al-

lusion. here, where even the air, this
morning, lies as if
im-
pacted, yes, in so
many exhausted particles, would

feed yourself, wouldn't you, to
the
slightest interstice, oversight, pry free of
your own, in-
exorable

replication. for just beyond would lie the
bars,
chords, the
sonorous reefs of
some suggested passage. whisper, then. yes,

murmur the
wavering blue line of that
taut,
tenuous horizon: 'wind,' 'waves,' 'whitecaps,'
what, in

themselves, meant nothing, whereas nothing, you
knew, without them (burst,
pulverized) could
possibly
mean.