Spring 2007 • Vol. XXIX No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 2007 |

September 11

1. Morning, stretching sore muscles on the floor by the bed, sifting the night's quota of thoughts, images, tasks, half-remembered insights, odd lines of poetry stranded by the ebb and flow of the mind. So it is an ocean, then, this Sea of Consciousness mitigating, filtering, accommodating everything? A child's unfinished alphabet puzzle on the sunporch overlooking the reconfigured beach after the hurricane, the beyond-dazzling shimmer of light across water. Twenty-six letters, a to z, fingerable, adept. Is it possible to intuit from these simplistic characters Leaves of Grass, the Duino Elegies? Who, shown a hydrogen molecule, would envision the sun? As from leaf to rain forest, as from ant to biosphere, as from a single brick to imagine Manhattan, as from a human instant the totality of a life, of lives interwoven, families and affiliations, the time-trawled nets of societies and cultures. So the arc of creativity is an ungrounded rainbow, and cause fo

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Campbell McGrath is the author of ten books of poetry, most recently In the Kingdom of the Sea Monkeys (Ecco Press, 2012). A resident of Miami, he teaches in the MFA program at Florida International University.

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