Gedicht
John Burnside
THE INNER EAR
THE INNER EAR
THE INNER EAR
It never switches off; even asleepWe listen in to gravity itself.
Crossing a field is one long exercise
in equilibrium - a player’s grace -
though what we mean by that
has more to do
with music
than the physics we imagine.
A history of forest and the murk
of oceans, nice
adjustments
in the memory of bone
lead us to this: the gaze;
the upright form.
Lemur and tree-shrew linger in the spine
becoming steps; a track worn in the grass;
A moment’s pause
before the rain moves in.
© 2001, John Burnside
From: Times Literary Supplement
From: Times Literary Supplement
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THE INNER EAR
It never switches off; even asleepWe listen in to gravity itself.
Crossing a field is one long exercise
in equilibrium - a player’s grace -
though what we mean by that
has more to do
with music
than the physics we imagine.
A history of forest and the murk
of oceans, nice
adjustments
in the memory of bone
lead us to this: the gaze;
the upright form.
Lemur and tree-shrew linger in the spine
becoming steps; a track worn in the grass;
A moment’s pause
before the rain moves in.
From: Times Literary Supplement
THE INNER EAR
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