The Poetry Project

Publications > Footnotes > Work from Obtuse Angles, Tentative Skies, Awkward Chops with Edmund Berrigan

Matthew Morse

Morning Ritual Black coffee at dawn, 13 solar systems, My foot trembles. Mind whitewashed in Yellow light out the window. Serenaded by a bird or two.
Quench Quench as nameable taste As musical flow with riddles And, I’ve seen atoms dance like dust – Past participles quench to ascend First as motes Or land spreadin’ out so far and wide Then as waves of vibrating colors – The understory, a joyful noise.
Hope Likely and loosely pulled in The frazzled sidewalks cope Thank the sun Burst the given ground Yesterday was now found

Work from Obtuse Angles, Tentative Skies, Awkward Chops with Edmund Berrigan

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