AJ Morelli at Allpoetry

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From the Long Sad Party       



Someone was saying
something about shadows covering the field, about
how things pass, how one sleeps towards morning
and the morning goes.

Someone was saying
how the wind dies down but comes back,
how shells are the coffins of wind
but the weather continues.

It was a long night
and someone said something about the moon shedding its
   white
on the cold field, that there was nothing ahead
but more of the same.

Someone mentioned
a city she had been in before the war, a room with two
   candles
against a wall, someone dancing, someone watching.
We began to believe

the night would not end.
Someone was saying the music was over and no one had
   noticed.
Then someone said something about the planets, about the
   stars,
how small they were, how far away.

-Mark Strand

 Featured

• inheritance

  23 lines, 36 comments, March 15
• morning song

  24 lines, 47 comments, February 3
• lineage

  39 lines, 17 comments, August 16, 2007

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• Among the dying things

                         A poet is like a bird. He chirps no matter what twig he

                        lands on and mistakes the rustle of leaves for applause.

                                                                                            - Joseph Brodsky

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