The Sleepwalker at Sea
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About this ebook
By turns meditative and playful, romantic and philosophical, this poetry compilation strides an invisible path through streets of strangers, in search of ruined altars and buried candles. Linked by their restless displacementpacing haunted spacesthese are poems that question what it means to be in the world and seek answers in lost rooms, missing sketches, and disappearing fragments. While reflecting the landscapes of Wales and the poet’s native Louisiana, this book also explores the roots of the English language.
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The Sleepwalker at Sea - Kelly Grovier
giddy.
Watermarks
Outside, the dead are burying books
under a blue weave of moon and ivy.
From my window, I can see their silhouettes
swinging picks, heeling spades.
Every now and then they pause,
their smooth heads nodding as they flip pages,
flinging parcels into graves, tamping
the rumpled earth. In the morning,
I drift through the empty farmhouse,
feel my way out past a trellis of frosted vines,
to where the ground is damp and churned.
As my hands clench deep in the lettered soil,
knuckling spines of clotted voice (ghosts
and grammar) my fingers fumble
for a bundle I know is there, cinched
in yellow strings. As I slip away
the loosening knot, braille the faint
nib and pinch of words I might have written
had the fevers and the shaking stopped,
a sharpness snags my pulse, like lips
of a lost lover, or a razor, unzipping your wrist.
Feet
Walking assumes great faith.
That the sea we are headed towards.
Will still be there.
Feet are profounder than eyes.
Soles, yes.
But they are also the palms that take.
Communion from earth.
The pulse of dust.
Feet carry us forward.
When we refuse.
To move, being.
In