by Peter Cooley
Seascape of first light shining through the palms.
Is this the balm, the blessing, the final cure
for that old soul sickness midnight rained on me?
This-so- much radiance unasked for, shimmering
as if the sun were one with everything?
The terrace where I sit, the mockingbird,
the all-familiar gestures of the gulf
turning its pages, skimming its white pages,
who could be other than a scholar on fire
to read the world, to memorize the words
haphazardly sea-tossed up on the tideline?
Let me start with hieroglyphs and Babylonia.
By noon I’ll read the first of the church fathers,
midday the later ones, azures, Latin golds—
Peter Cooley’s tenth book of poems World Without Finishing was released in February 2018 from Carnegie Mellon. Among many other publications, his poetry has appeared in Poetry, The New Yorker, The Pushcart Prize anthology, and three editions of the Best American Poetry series.