Poetry by Emily Shearer

The Eighth Way of Looking at a Blackbird


I know noble accents  
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;  
But I know, too,  
That the blackbird is involved  
In what I know.   

from “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”, by Wallace Stevens


I know noble accents
           and I know the name of luck. 
Lucid, inescapable rhythms
           carry me forth into the snowy meadow
But I know, too,
           that my mother is calling me back.  That the wind.  That ever is ever is ever
That the blackbird is involved
          In the theft and the belief
In what I know



short meditation on death

do you think death could possibly be a coyote?
slinking through the sunset of the great divide
and you and i are just citizens of Nowhere
with a rock in one hand, a motion to come hither in the other?


Emily Shearer lives, writes, and teaches yoga in Prague, Czech Republic with her husband and three children.  Her poetry has been published in melancholy hyperbole, Stirring, ROAR, Quail Bell Press, about place journal, and others, including the debut issue of Minerva Rising, where she now serves as the Poetry Editor.  

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