2 Poems by Dylan Everett

Dylan Everett is an Adelaide-based poet. He has a background in visual arts and poetry. He has previously contributed poetry and reviews to Broadsheet magazine and been involved in visual art/writing projects as part of The Adelaide Festival of the Arts.


The piano listens, and

in the words of its quiet thunder, 

a distance is wrapped in fingerprints. 

Left ringing in my ears, 

I hear their chambers of sense, 

like drops falling on another’s skin.  

Running into the arms of sensation,

sounds of fingers praying on human stone, 

fingers falling on resonating lives. 

Chambers of intricate fusion

and notes drawn from silence

are torn from the uncoiling rocks of symbols. 


Works of procession, 

like a wandering of bones 

into stars and back again. 

Like the bandages of senses, 

such an unpredictable transformation

like a crack forming in the sky. 

Something like private rapture

or private despair. 

Just another reaction, 

on a normal walk down the street. 

It is the same street others walk on

thrown far into the distance. 

We say sometimes, 

small things don’t matter and great things do. 

But nothing is left to remind us

of our forgotten choices of perspective. 

The music of a body’s power 

before it was forgotten. 

Sometimes our creations

splash back to the waters of loss forever. 

There we end up. 

in tangents of temperament, 

and jettisoned worlds of dreams and visions, 

paper crushed into the form of humanity. 

A rush of mixed senses comes

to feel the wonders of obscurity:

blurred and broken and whole. 

It is still as it should be. 

Note: Synesthesia is a perceptual phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to involuntary experiences in other ones.

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The Blue Nib believes in the power of the written word, the well-structured sentence and the crafted poetic phrase. Since 2016 we have published, supported and promoted the work of both established and emerging voices in poetry, fiction, essay and journalism. Times are difficult for publishers, and The Blue Nib is no exception. It survives on subscription income only. If you also believe in the power of the written word, then please consider supporting The Blue Nib and our contributors by subscribing to either our print or digital issue.

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