In this new collection of 52 poems, we see a master at the height of his powers, one who has allowed the “wildness” of existence to drive out arrogance. He is our witness on the “yearning shore,” reminding us that even when the world feels shrouded in “desperate folly,” we are not lost. He teaches us a way of communion that requires no chanting or spells—only “one simple yes” to the wonders that persist despite the darkness.
Don Hynes is more than a poet of our generation; he is a keeper of the “hidden stone,” the birthplace of beauty. He reminds us that even as the cultural landscape seems to “descend,” we have the “stars in flight” to guide us. He proves, through every carefully chosen word, that we are “children of the eternal,” and that even in the deepest frost of the soul, we are good.
Black silhouettes of trees against dark night beauty, tidal rip of moon and sea. I lay down the weights of lives never lived, hurts given, hurts received. With only so much time, life doesn’t linger on what might have been— only your face in silver moonlight, and the quiet prayers
I draw breath between swells, the rise and fall of the city sea in the rhythm of a metronome. Rivers of traffic, roar of trucks, moments of quiet between beats— the iron symphony of the machine. Garden buddhas, soft spring rain, crows atop green-leafed trees. Earth alive and undefeated, pushing
Pale grasses yellow, wind-cured after months of rain. Waves lash the headland beneath gunmetal clouds. Sea birds flash white in sharp blades of sunlight; distant islands brood in deep loden green. The sea’s steady breathing slips through my coat into hollows of bone. Quietly I take hold of the long
