Poems

Songless Era

By Brenda Hillman

A fine ash obscured the sun.
Leaves grew large as rooms.
Stamped recreants strolled near the pond of wands.
There was a great and terrible brightness
     that was pretty much like a fire
     but it had lots of eyes in it.

Four syntaxes correspond to four styles of going on.

Can you hear? (How ‘bout now.) Non-chanson:

lie down in the tent of a servant-queen;
lie down in the dust; go on.

One kind of sentence remembers the accident;

one kind of sentence is a scar.

—from Cascadia (Wesleyan Poetry Series)

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