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by Reginald Shepherd

Sir star, Herr Lenz, white season body
master snapping masts in half, absent
winds’ workmanship: what window
will I look you through, what brook, stream

creaking past fretwork weeds, clouds
in the context of cold? Lord knot
to be untied, skiff hard alee ill winds:
a hiss of wish and cinders and I

am warm, crossing dazed oceans by hand
to sow the doubtful sea with drought. Mine
of rain and seize and sluice, you change

your mind again, a rage for green waves’
open vowels, undrinkable. No talking
to the weeds, no talking with the snow.


Reginald Shepherd’s third book, Wrong, will be published by the University of Pittsburgh Press in 1999. His previous books, also from Pittsburgh, are Some are Drowning (1993 AWP award) and Angel, Interrupted. (1999)

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