Poem: "Machine" by Michael Donaghy





Machine
by Michael Donaghy
Dearest, note how these two are alike:
This harpsicord pavane by Purcell
And the racer's twelve-speed bike.

The machinery of grace is always simple.
This chrome trapezoid, one wheel connected
To another of concentric gears,
Which Ptolemy dreamt of and Schwinn perfected,
Is gone. The cyclist, not the cycle, steers.
And in the playing, Purcell's chords are played away.

So this talk, or touch if I were there,
Should work its effortless gadgetry of love,
Like Dante's heaven, and melt into the air.

If it doesn't, of course, I've fallen. So much is chance,
So much agility, desire, and feverish care,
As bicyclists and harpsicordists prove

Who only by moving can balance,
Only by balancing move.





HERE




Michael Donaghy (1954 - 2004)
Michael Donaghy




Michael Donaghy (May 24 1954 -September 16 2004) was born into an Irish family and grew up in the Bronx, New York. He studied at Fordham University and the University of Chicago, where he edited the Chicago Review and founded the acclaimed Irish music ensemble Samradh Music. In 1985, he moved to London to join his partner and fellow musician Maddy Paxman, whom he married in 2003.

Michael Donaghy published his first full collection, Shibboleth, in 1988. Errata followed in 1993, and Conjure in 2000. Recognition came in the form of the Geoffrey Faber and Cholmondeley awards and the Whitbread and Forward prizes, among others.


HERE


 

What did you think of this article?




Trackbacks
  • No trackbacks exist for this post.
Comments
  • No comments exist for this post.
Leave a comment

Submitted comments are subject to moderation before being displayed.

 Name

 Email (will not be published)

 Website

Your comment is 0 characters limited to 3000 characters.