The Poetry Book Discussion Group will take up James Harms's Comet Scar the first Tues. of Dec.
Jim is a master of the observed, even when his landscapes are created.
At dawn the third
dimension gradually returns,
a scent like salt
in the wind. The ocean
is a sound at the edge
of sleep, easily mistaken
for leaves gathering in
the courtyard corners,
and the leading edge
of light slips loose of
palm trees and jacaranda,
rattles like dice on the terra-
from "Keep My Word"
I'm taken with his linebreaks, his sound-fulness and the small boxes full of stories.
Kudzu on the cover. A song
wrapped in wax paper, all stammer and prayer
and the low, little sounds
of bugs scratching screens.
from "Murmur R.E.M."
I love his love songs and the sad good night.
Walt wore green trousers to school today,
a little tattered and short but baggy enough
to get by, his ankles sharp wings above
his shoes, Hermes delivering his little
sister to kindergarten, who's in a green cardigan
over green t-shirt; she hates to be pinched.
from "March 17th"
If you're in Youngstown, come down to the Lemon Grove and we'll marvel at these poems over mugs of Christmas Ale. We waited all year for this.