Barry Schwabsky – 3 Poems

Barry Schwabsky

3 Poems

The Devil’s Music

Radiant sounds flush to advantage. It’s heartsick how passing sparrows trouble appetite for hearing. Their dreaming tune: “My error ends all wrongs.” I love it. Yes, bring them to me soft and willing but I’ll still be softest drizzled in the open palm where music waits. On Reverdy Road They like poetry that isn’t. Not the kind that wakes into you the way eyes gleam candid in shadow, untrimmed wicks, or that you grab from casual breezes barehanded at dawn. When don’t the words in a poem count? When they fall into a pit and Dear Reader goes tumbling after. Posthumous Poem by Jack Spicer I overheard it in my sleep. Beginnings and endings slowed down, static echoes. First commentary on beauty was swarms of bees vexed your assets in sunshine toward those easy pieces for piano. Still fluttering? Condensed cloud just unwind some brittle notes of honey toward a distant bedroom for lullabies.

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