A reading from his book in progress, Skiathos (Shadow of Athos). ALL THE ANGELS ARE DYING Human, they leave us in the brightest spring, or on the hinge of a dry season, gone as late November leaves, fallen wings wafting groundward. The caesura song of their departure discords the world. Do they think of what their deprivation leaves? This is loss, and what loss denudes: This life dimmer, that much more grieved for ourselves. Each of their blank deaths wearing the faces of our lost fathers. The darkness was lit by their frosty breaths and silvery hair. And we stand, survivors, our hands, emptied of our own lives, mploring upward, shaping the air like prayerful, absent wings. In the forward to Nicholas Samaras’s first volume, Hands of the Saddlemaker, James Dickey writes: “Nicholas Samaras’ poems are unique in their orientation and display a linguistic sense that should earn him a wide and discriminating audience. The most engaging quality of his work is his metaphysical internationalism, the note of the eternal exile who yet finds remarkable and life-enhancing particularities in the countries through which he passes.” Nicholas Samaras won The Yale Series of Younger Poets Award with his first book, Hands of the Saddlemaker (1992). In 2004, he was awarded a grant from The Lilly Endowment Inc. to attend the Athens Olympics and write new material. He is currently completing three new manuscripts of writing.