Averill Curdy (2007)
Author's Statement
I started writing poetry seriously a decade ago, after working for years as an arts administrator, as well as a marketing manager and technical editor in the software industry. I write slowly-always, it seems, at the very limit of what I know-and I'm currently working on finishing the last poems for my first book, Ovid in America. These longer poems and sequences find their subjects through the voices of early American naturalists and explorers. The NEA fellowship provides an inestimable gift, not only research travel and writing time, but also, more importantly, from the judges' faith in my work, a deep and hidden well of psychological support during a crucial period.  
NORTHWEST PASSAGE Standing on this deck I have watched morning's first pale peach jeopardy of light flush alleys and rooftops, just touching my neighbors' gardens, until they seethed like the green smoke of a new world. On these sidewalks, with the linden's melon scent twined around an untuned engine's blue carbon monoxide and Wednesday's trash, I've looked for an authentic eloquence: Frobisher returning three times from Baffin Island, Boreal winds still on his tongue, timbers strained by tons of fool's gold. Circled with lamplight I've imagined sailing under discipline into strange seas where the sun hangs dumb as a cabbage all day in ice. Even as sirens squall down the block, I've fallen asleep in my armchair, tired as any theoretical geographer after dinner, who dreams of trading his knives for nutmegs, mirrors for cinnamon and pearls, and beyond- finding by brute necessity and skill some route between suffering and song.  
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