Dickinson
Of all the lives I cannot live,
I have elected one
to haunt me till the margins give
and I am left alone.
One life will vanish from my voice
and make me like a stone--
one that the falling leaves can sink
not over, but upon.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
When I was 29 and all the world was in front of me and I was unselfconscious and world-building. Internally, I built worlds of sound, color,...
-
Rain I stand under a leafless tree more still, in this mouse-pattering thrum of rain, than cattle shifting in the field. It is more d...
-
Dear Reader: Right now, on NPR, Faith Middleton is hosting a show about manners and etiquette. The topic reminds me of how luckless, or l...
-
This sea-flower blooms in the darkness; in the cold dense salty water, through volcano ash, pushing through sedimentary coral-seashell-shar...
2 comments:
I enjoyed your poems. Wry at times.
Poem for Emily. I didn't always understand her except perhaps the unrequited part. Maybe its winter already wearing us down?
Thanks very much. Annie Finch is a great writer; I'm glad you liked some of my poems, too.
It's nice to hear from you, as I don't get many visitors out here. I very much like the tone and flow of your blog, which I'm grazing on before I comment where you are.
Post a Comment