In The Beginning, a poem by Andrew Sano

Andrew Sano was born in Montreal Canada, raised near Seattle in the pacific Northwest and has spent half of his life in the San Francisco Bay Area in Oakland.

In The Beginning

They tried everything, evoking birds

and repeating the names of favorite trees

while ransacking adjectives for moisture

and heat. A few turned over dead

leaves from some past year’s fall

as if they could decipher peril

while the band played gaily on

without a drummer in sight

but it’s the natives now who worry

about restless things, and fear,

without a pith helmet, stalks the wire.

Many tried grandmothers and walks

around the block, to the park,

alone at last yet far from happy

about how things had turned,

not necessarily out or in but,

without a compass, map or tiller

did it matter? A new world,

unsought, sat before them

erasing the shape of their days

and drawing bare, ghostly sketches

on tingling nerves, of what was to come.

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  1. Thanks Jefferson. I tried some of the usual suspects, “lay” seemed too obvious and passive, “hovered” seemed a bit…something and I liked the way “sat”plops down right after unsought like a sack of something dropped right in your way, almost like an oblique onomatopoeia, which is how it felt when I wrote this in the middle of March, things were pretty inconclusive if not mostly imminent. What revisions can you see?

  2. I love your poem, Andrew. By the way, I spent most of my life in Montreal. Why don’t you change “sat” to the verb you came up with yourself: “plops down”?


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