In the Wellsprings of the Ear brings together the best of the stunningly original poems in his previous 3 volumes, plus 17 new pieces brimming with the Celtic devilment and music that have made him a unique voice in American poetry. No one else writes like this.
House on the High Road
High lady low road the red treasure
Again on my hands, my intention
I swear was words only
A reasoned package to deliver her,
Therefore I went
My both hands empty and outheld
She could see, she could see
Such innocent bare angles
My thoughts cut
Crossing the last stones
Now the dogs burn for my own blood
Therefore the low road (the high
is policed by submissions)
This red on my hands I cry
Up to the troubled assemblies
Was words, I swear, was words only!