Just a few years ago, Cliff Bernier was wondering if he’d moved on from writing poetry.  The acclaimed Hollin Hills writer — who’s appeared in numerous national publications, published several collections of poetry (“Dark Berries”; “Earth Suite”), been featured in poetry readings across the country, been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and a Best of the Net Award, and whose book “The Silent Art“ won the Gival Press Poetry Award — had been focusing on music instead, often playing blues and jazz harmonica with poets — but not reading any new work himself. 

“I hadn’t written any poetry for more than ten years,” says the affable, sixty-something poet, from his home on Whiteoaks Drive. 

“But in 2020 I was on the coast of Oregon, and the waterscape there just moved me.  I wanted to get as close to the ocean as I could, to make sense of nature.  I wanted to get to the meaning of things.  And the words started coming to me.” 

That set off a three-year exploration into nature … and into quiet. Much of Bernier’s earlier writing has an urban, jazzy,  almost physical quality, throwing out lines like well-aimed punches.  But he began looking more inward, seeking out natural settings by the water, such as Chincoteague Island —  where he would go in the dead of winter, so he could be alone.  

“I wanted to be able to sit down and listen,” he says. “And to write.” 

The result is “Ocean Suite,” a new book of twenty-six poems that delve into the connections between sound, music and the language we use to understand our own baffling existence.  Starting with the most elemental “voices” of nature — the crash of waves on the shore, bird calls, the wind in the reeds— Bernier listens closely, teasing a lively, playful music out of sound, trying to make out what the world is telling us.  It’s an exercise in listening, born out of his life as a musician.  But it’s also a search for meaning, and it leads, ultimately, to a kind of profound and oceanic peace, beyond sounds, beyond language, beyond even silence itself.

“I stand at the sea’s edge hoping the voice of the waves will bring meaning,” begins the first poem, and Bernier quickly draws us into the depths.  It’s a vivid journey — he dives into the dark waters with creatures “each making its own inscrutable light,” before soaring up into “the loony, snagging sun” overhead.  He listens to the world  “singing like the plover to the otter in the reeds.”   He looks for “the currents and tides of meaning” in everyday things — the color of the night, a path on the shore — and echoes the subtle music he finds there. 

It’s a world alive with sound, vividly evoked.  Bernier clearly loves language as much as he loves music, and there’s a playful, even joyful recounting of everything he hears, from “singing like the sea foam to the dancing of the dune grass,” to the sounds of “the swirling, swelling sea.” Lakes laugh, birds bark, animals transform, the shimmering landscape comes alive. And in the midst of it all is Bernier himself — “a monster in a mallard’s mind” — looking for his own place in the universe, wondering if he’s no more than a cartoon, a mere imagination of the light.

Through the collection, each poem seems to emerge out of the distance, gathering strength before breaking, wave-like, on the page.  And by the poem “Waves”, a transcendent vision has awoken. The ocean’s waves, which first seemed to come from “the rim of the world,” now appear from somewhere even more distant, even more profound: “the silence beyond, the silence within, the silence everywhere.”  

“Ocean Suite” is a rich and deeply engaging work; recommended for anyone interested in poetry, music, or the world itself.  

Ocean Suite, Cliff Bernier’s new poetry chapbook, is being released this fall by Finishing Line Press. Order by July 19, and receive a discounted advance price of $15.99 + $3.99 shipping. Advance orders ship on September 23.

Brackish Marsh

In the brackish marsh
I am a dog in a duck’s eye,
more jester than jockey,
more joker than juror.
When beavers dance
I am a goat in a goose’s dream,
at water’s edge
I am a freak in a frog’s leap,
a madman in a muskrat’s march,
a monster in a mallard’s mind.
More clumsy than careful,
more cartoon than contender.

— Clifford Bernier