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Eduardo C. Corral reads Don McKay's poem, "Kinds of Blue #76 (Evening Snow)".


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My name is Eduardo C. Corral.  I'm going to read a poem by Don McKay, one of my favorite Canadian poets.  I love this poem because it's suggests, or it's almost trying to tell us, is telling us, that by walking away from the natural world, we have corrupted ourselves and sold ourselves out.  

"Kinds of Blue #76 (Evening Snow)"

A blue against the easy clarities of sky,
a blue that eats the light, a bruise

ascended from forgetfulness.  Things
have been overtaken by their shadows, stilled

and stricken dumb.  What did they know
anyway?  Only cold may speak

or not speak.  Inside pain,
singing, inside song

another pain which is the dialects of snow.
And us, full of holes

and chambers
and for rent.