What to do with the choice left bywhat one would never choose,having already acquiescedto the routine of preceding daysas instruction for rest.Become the sound of a door closingagainst the quiet morningand gravel’s crisp response to departure,the modest music slowed and stretchedon a pleasant unseasonable chill.The hero’s way is not here,but the day remains. It standsLike a hero’s day—must be climbed.And the choice waits also.The feelings that passlike putting on a vest, stand.The trees, the entire ardent inhuman lifewith the gray-washed sky standsfor the music of what to do.
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“Not at Duino” from SALMS: by Aaron McCollough.
Published by University of Iowa Press.
Copyright © 2024 by Aaron McCollough.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Aaron McCollough is the author of seven books of poetry. Most recently, Salms (2024) was published by the University of Iowa Press. His poems have appeared in Boston Review, A Public Space, Denver Quarterly, Fence, VOLT, and jubilat. With Karla Kelsey, he co-edits SplitLevel Texts. He is a Product Director at Ubiquity Press.
"Profoundly intelligent and erudite, steeped in the metaphysicals, Aaron McCollough’s poems alternately tantalize with their hermeticism and dazzle with their sudden outpourings of radiant clarity. The mirrors so important to this collection are like the surfaces of lakes: protean, dreamy, distorting, swallowing up and transforming everything in their purview, as McCollough’s voracious intellect swallows up language and delivers it back to us refracted, estranged—as the past itself is transfigured by our memory of it. I found myself reveling in this writing, transfixed among the ‘dusty stars.’"
—Donna Stonecipher
"Aaron McCollough’s stunning new collection of poetry, Salms, is as attentive to the merging of poems and psalms as it is to the nearly indistinguishable sound of salms and songs. Here, ‘the glazier carries an eye’; ‘split wood [is] proof the wound is real,’ and ‘a hoed stone sings.’ Whether attending to memory, observation of the natural world, metaphysical poets, love, God, or mortality, the spaces these poems traverse are destabilized by shifting contexts and the uncertain ideas of ‘inside’ and ‘out.’ I feel myself reaching after wherever I already am. I become curious about the lyric and the psalm. Is inhabiting always reinhabiting? I’ve just loved reading and rereading Salms; this is exactly why I come to poetry, to move toward and away, to hear new music, again."
—Sally Keith
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