Archives‎ > ‎Issue Twelve‎ > ‎

Claudia Savage

Perhaps, Music

 

 

                       

                        Zazen in front of our aspen tree.

                        I am a leaf unhooked

                        from the autumn branch,

                        a forced direction.

                        I confuse deep water

                        for sky

 

                                       breathe

 

                        What did I promise?

 

                        Aspen leaves cup sun.

                        So many months link and release. If

                        he was here the dappled light

                        would spot his eyes different kinds

                        of honey, would make me forget.

                        We’d lay down and sleep past its

                        burning.

 

                        I could stop this,

                        admit that every bell

                        is first silent.

 

                        It takes a blow

                        to prove its singing.

 

 

Claudia's collection Take the Rain Into Your Mouth was a finalist for the New Issues Press Poetry Award in 2012. Claudia has been awarded residencies at Ucross, Jentel, and the Atlantic Center for the Arts. She published the chapbook, The Last One Eaten: A Maligned Vegetable's History (Finishing Line Press), and has recent work in The Boulevard and CutBank. In 2012 she was a fellow at The Attic Institute in Portland, Oregon where she now lives with her experimental musician husband and one-year-old daughter.