Curlew Sixth Sense Bantry

Curlew Sixth Sense Bantry

May 5, 2025 , ,

By JOHN KINSELLA

To take a liberty with lexicon
is remiss in the circumstances
            of the curlew
with diminished habitat.
It reprises every day,
            and the mudflats
            sheeted by the in-
sweep of tide leads it to the mowed
grass in front of the Bantry
            lifeboat, across
            the harbor’s mouth
from the pier, that “extra” beak-length
(of curlew and figuratively of pier)
            a segment of curve
            into earth as much
as water, casting around with a pair
of oyster catchers, three ravens
            and a hooded crow,
            telepathically swapping
views around issues of solitariness,
solitude and broader community,
            differences in flights,
            states of nature.

 

 

[Purchase Issue 29 here.]

John Kinsella’s new selected poems, The Darkest Pastoral, has just been published, and a collection of new poems, Aporia, will appear mid-2025. His awards include the Australian Prime Minister’s Literary Award for Poetry, the Victorian Premier’s Award for Poetry, and the John Bray Poetry Award.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Curlew Sixth Sense Bantry

Related Posts

model plane

The Reading Life: The Acrobat

JIM SHEPARD
And Shep looked only a little chagrined, like someone had asked why he had never become an acrobat, and allowed as how he was sure it was very impressive, given how many distinguished people had praised it, but that it was not the kind of thing someone with his background could judge.

September 11, 2025

Damascene Dream

AYA LABANIEH
You raised me, tayteh, rocking me in your lap, spooning Quranic verses into my little ears, scrubbing the living daylights out of me in the bathtub. Slapping your thighs, “Ta’a, ta’a, ta’a,” you’d say to the lovebirds we raised, “Come, come, come,” and they’d fly, all three of them, out their cages in a flurry and land on your breasts, climb your gold chains, nestle against your cheeks.

September 10, 2025

Hitting a Wall and Making a Door: A Conversation between Phillis Levin and Diane Mehta

DIANE MEHTA and PHILLIS LEVIN
This conversation took place over the course of weeks—over daily phone calls and long emails, meals when they were in the same place, and a weekend in the Connecticut countryside. The poets share what they draw from each other’s work, and the work of others, exploring the pleasures of language, geometric movement, and formal constraint.

September 8, 2025