This poem is taken from PN Review 88, Volume 19 Number 2, November - December 1992.
Salute to Donald Davie
Imagine David, how a single stone
sufficed him.
We bow
before frugality of means;
we who hunt our whales
in a troubled sea of tongues, syntax
unspooling like a harpoon rope
with a rush that leaves
the windlass smoking.
...
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