Tercets

Don’t become a poet of summer
Until you’ve sharpened
The small knife of loss

Play Mahler on the gramophone
Thinking in twilight
Of the terrible freedom to come

Now and then, says the knife
Symphony, F minor,
Says the knife

Look closely at stones
Think of Bruckner’s grave
His carved church organ…

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto