Please forgive the long silence. In my gut, which is the blue flame Of the stovetop, the broken lance Of fear quakes my liver and my name Means not celebration and critique But concealment (what the Dogon Call obeah). And so I take Myself into myself, that long Ribbon folded inside the cowrie Shell. I am a massive animal. The torsion in the muscles of my Neck serve up the image of a mal- Contented demon, and I suck my own grave Through my sinuous mantle groove.
-- Sean Singer’s first book Discography won the 2001 Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize, selected by W.S. Merwin, and the Norma Farber First Book Award from the Poetry Society of America. He has also published two chapbooks, Passport and Keep Right On Playing Through the Mirror Over the Water, both with Beard of Bees Press and is the recipient of a Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. He lives in New York City.