|
ANDREW KRIVAK |
| Islands | |
| 1999, 32 pages |
| "'Navigat[ing]
the approach by feel,' Islands takes us on a transpersonal odyssey from
the Bronx right on up the coast of Maine, each poem serving as a way station.
Tempered by science and philosophy, the poems are modest in the claims they
make, and strangely, all the more magical for what they reveal about survival
in the world as it is." —Timothy Liu |
Reading Homer
On the catabatic march,
Tuck
(our tutor) drilled, countersunk and bolted
dactyls in our heads so that, though we
groaned at the long wooden tables with each
recitation, I still carry Homer's
Greek with me in my memory to bus stops,
whispering the passage of Tiresias
under my breath, assuaging what time
I might have lost with
no other sounds
at hand to vanquish the din of traffic
riding in its worthless steel armor
against age-old, vengeful forces: beauty
flees; men follow; blood is shed for her
return; heroes die or wander. Again.