"Sills" assembles poems from four books and combines them with new work. O'Brien writes, "The poems dance their dance of stillness and motion. The issue is a quiet, patterned music, animated, disciplined, ecstatic; not closure, but recognition."
"No other poet now writing registers the world with O'Brien's oblique precision. "Sills" is our first comprehensive look at an American master."- August Kleinzahler
Michael O'Brien is the author of five previous books of poetry, including "Veil" and "The Floor and the Breath," He lives in New York City. Selected Poems
Sunday
The wind pressed against the glass.
The light upon the page was morning.carried the river back where it came from.
Across the island, another shore.
The shards are broken. They will not join.
Meeting of rivers troubles the water.
It does not know which way to turn.
Here the river has two currents,
one the tide's share, one that waits.
Evening resolves them. They flow south.
The moon touches the river's mouth.
Another Sunday
a durable blanket
covers the city
the dogs speak French
we know the same number of words
Moira's toys
are a doll & a school-satchel
in the caf
a disease of mirrors
he plays pinball
& talks to his girl
is it winter coming, or spring
the elegant cop salutes methe bus goes to the Pantheon
the deaf speak French with their hands
Postcard
Somewhere in the Hudson Valley
a gull is looking at a cow.
A sullen wetness smoulders.
The silo would like to lie down.
Out of its kitchen, ethical as dough
& simmering like The Original Amateur Hour
spring'sone-man-band
lurches across the sodden, lion-colored turf.
Quarry
So much eyelid in a girl's downcast gaze
Washington Square powdery with dusk
cicada-song of the nervous system
crossing the day's vacant places
37 floors of parallel lives
little bell of the coffee-cart
Landowska's harpsichord, a clatter of wings
dune grass another part of the dark
the speck of perception
that ignites
in all that weather
heron, march-lord
breath
