a Sargasso of monologues that were all attracted to the noise
– Clive James
As the Great Pacific Garbage
Patch, gyre of voyaged plastic
Irkutsks and chemical sludge, most
fecund upper section and sunniest
of a deep pelagic cylinder
sea myriad thousand cubic miles
big with bright anchovies
is one lens on a century
so this rose window—
arabesque brass tracery
to which myriad million ultra-lived
hours added meaning-
ful shards of greens creams Algiers
Tibets sapphires of Amritsars of
garnets—is another: changed
light is the poem.
Posted with permission from Lee Posna
Editor this week: Sarah Jane Barnett
I remember when Lee and I first started exchanging work. He sent me a link to some of his poems online. I was just about to go for a run (cap on, ear plugs in), but stopped to take a look. Half an hour later I was in tears after reading a long and incredible poem about the relationship between a son and his dead father. Lee is one of the most thoughtful and thought provoking poets I know. Behind each poem exists a depth of knowledge, which creates a genuine and strong voice.
‘The Noise’ is the third of a series of ekphrastic poems based on the stained glass windows of an imaginary cathedral in consecration of the 20th Century. The first two can be found here and here. I chose this poem for its keen attention to language (it has a great mouth feel) and for those killer last lines.
Lee Posna grew up in New Jersey and emigrated to NZ in 2008. He’s very happy to be part of the Wellington writing community. His chapbook Arboretum is being released by Compound Press this month.
Sarah Jane Barnett is a writer, tutor and book review who lives in Wellington. Her first collection of poems, A Man Runs into a Woman (Hue & Cry Press) was a finalist in the 2013 New Zealand Post Book Awards. She blogs at theredroom.org.