This morning the ocean has again tossed man-sized black boulders up onto the shelves of rock along the shore. The breakers crash onto the beach, shred across the strand, sweep shells and stones gnashing against the black cliffs as tangled masses and wrack flail about and resist being dragged back to sea, stretch out to reach deeper into the shallows and everything woven into the surf, days and waves, the ebb and flow of time. (Translated from the Faroese by Randi Ward) * Jane Bennett says that poems can help us get to know the life that resides in things and reveal more of the vibrancy hidden in them— can show us even more of the strands of interconnection that bind us to matter. The withered grass has cloned itself, right outside my window black starlings sing for one another; their extinct ancestors, the dinosaurs, were the only others fully able to understand their song. ...