"The world of Edward Byrne's poems is our own world viewed through the wrong end of a telescope: curiously small and urgent . . . But the minuteness of scale is deceptive... in Byrne's poetry... particulars explode into universality as through the action of a zoom lens." —John Ashbery, from the Foreword
Once again they cross the wooden sea the planks of their ships knotted to each other like straw they sail in their own wake each member of the crew mounts a mast to become that part of the totem shaped into the animal he always wanted to be and above each vessel lines of clouds stretch like serpents toward gray cliffs overhanging a broken shore where the waters of the sun lie scattered.
© BOA Editions, Ltd. 1977.