Taft High School Library

“The only thing that you absolutely have to know, is the location of the library.” – Albert Einstein

Library Hours

Monday 7:45 - 3:45

Tuesday 7:45 - 3:45

Wednesday 7:45 - 3:45

Thursday 7:45 - 3:45

Friday 7:45 - 3:45

3780 Spyglass Ridge Dr.
Lincoln City, OR 97367

Library Assistant:

Danielle Clanton

Contact Info:

541-996-2115 X120


Phone: 541.996.2115     Fax: 541.996.4335 

POEM of the DAY

Mikko Harvey

There once was a planet who was both

sick and beautiful. Chemicals rode through her

that she did not put there.

Animals drowned in her eyeballs

that she did not put there—

animals she could not warn

against falling in because

she was of them, not

separable from them.

Define sick, the atmosphere asked.

So she tried: she made

a whale on fire

somehow still

swimming and alive.

See? she said. Like that,

kind of. But the atmosphere did

not understand this, so the planet progressed in her argument.

She talked about the skin

that snakes shed, about satellites that circled her

like suitors forever yet never

said a word.

She talked about the shyness

of large things, how a blueberry dominates

the tongue that it dies on.

She talked and talked and

the atmosphere started nodding—

you could call this

a revolution, or just therapy.

Meanwhile the whale spent the rest of his

life burning (etc., etc., he sang a few songs).

When he finally died

his body, continuing

to burn steadily, drifted down

to the ocean floor.

And although the planet

had long since forgotten him—he was merely one

of her many examples—he became

a kind of god in the eyes

of the fish that saw him as he fell. Or

not a god exactly, but at least something

inexplicable. Something strange and worth

briefly turning your face toward.

About This Poem

“I wrote this poem while walking down the street one night in midtown Manhattan. Being at the base of all those tall buildings somehow turned my imagination planetary. I think the poem shows just a few links in a chain of accidents: somebody hurts somebody else while trying to heal herself, somebody becomes an idol to others who don’t understand his particular hurt, and the atmosphere nods along acceptingly; the type of little chain that probably happens every day among children on playgrounds at recess.”

Mikko Harvey