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About this poet

Cedar Sigo was raised on the Suquamish Reservation in the Pacific Northwest. He studied at The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute.

Sigo is the author of Royals (Wave Books, 2017), Language Arts (Wave Books, 2014), and Stranger in Town (City Lights, 2010). Of his work, Ron Silliman writes, “Cedar Sigo is a Frank O’Hara for the 21st century: witty, erudite, serious, with a terrific ear and eye for the minutest details, at home in the world of the arts.”

He has taught at St. Mary’s College and Naropa University. He lives in San Francisco, California.


Selected Bibliography

Royals (Wave Books, 2017)
Language Arts (Wave Books, 2014)
Stranger in Town (City Lights, 2010)

Like Stride

We will live forever misaligning the changes
into further time stinted tricks
giving up post kickflip failures
scribbling prepared remarks to notebooks
unlocked over dry spells flooded with demand
salt crystals crushed, the past flashed
and I was a working writer, nursing the pools
in everyone’s hearts, disembarking
soothing the air around a final question
away in the country toweling off
my doing the most proper thing turned
somehow slick, of feminine wiles, a clap trap
case book, the dream at the end so delicate
and put out. Makes light so pained
two reclining long in the turn of the neck
in like stride, imparting poetic asides
(bored to tears in Taos) cross out words
and tunnel the line, the guts will sit atop
glistening, hand stamped valves really
toying with release, a lighted display
corresponding controls, to repave
an entire arcade in release of our well
whiskey texting back dimension
We are poor and not cheap, in love
with the same little song slashed booklet

From Royals (Wave Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Cedar Sigo. Used with permission of Wave Books.

From Royals (Wave Books, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by Cedar Sigo. Used with permission of Wave Books.

Cedar Sigo

Cedar Sigo

Cedar Sigo is the author of Royals (Wave Books, 2017). He lives in San Francisco, California.

by this poet

poem

Leave the long fall between us (peak after peak)
Here were my paints and there were my powders
And then I was drunk and we lost each other
My shadow tumbled after
Soaking cinnamon leaves in the lake of the moon
The roll of the damned drum calls me to duty
The dice in the light of the

poem

Acid washed

Jeans, bitten down

Fingernails, I’ve been

Uptight all

This week wishing

Invisibility,

Scented tissue

I can tease

Into flowers, same

As ever My heart-

shaped collapsible

Locket is still

Missing & I miss

Wearing it open,

poem

for Bill Berkson

Was it tonight’s
flirtatious
remark or his
exquisite song-book
on stage?
My outside life
has turned itself in,
any opening
up at all
is no small feat
when romancing
the edge
of an echo
Smoke in the
dream and rest

2