Carolyn Kizer
The Intruder
My mother preferring the strange to the tame: Dove-note, bone marrow, deer dung, Frog’s belly distended with finny young, Leaf-mould wilderness, hare-bell, toadstool, Odd, small snakes loving through the leaves, Metallic beetles rambling over
American Beauty
For Ann London As you described your mastectomy in calm detail And bared your chest so I might see The puckered scar, “They took a hatchet to your breast!” I said. “What an Amazon
On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)
The whole green sky is dying. The last tree flares With a great burst of supernatural rose Under a canopy of poisonous airs. Could we imagine our return to prayers To end in time
The Ungrateful Garden
Midas watched the golden crust That formed over his steaming sores, Hugged his agues, loved his lust, But damned to hell the out-of-doors Where blazing motes of sun impaled The serrid roses, metal-bright. “Those
Fearful Women
Arms and the girl I sing – O rare Arms that are braceleted and white and bare Arms that were lovely Helen’s, in whose name Greek slaughtered Trojan. Helen was to blame. Scape-nanny call
Parent's Pantoum
for Maxine Kumin Where did these enormous children come from, More ladylike than we have ever been? Some of ours look older than we feel. How did they appear in their long dresses More
Mud Soup
1. Had the ham bone, had the lentils, Got to meat store for the salt pork, Got to grocery for the celery. Had the onions, had the garlic, Borrowed carrots from the neighbor. Had
Cultural Evolution
When from his cave, young Mao in his youthful mind A work to renew old China first designed, Then he alone interpreted the law, And from tradtional fountains scorned to draw: But when to
Days of 1986
He was believed by his peers to be an important poet, But his erotic obsession, condemned and strictly forbidden, Compromised his standing, and led to his ruin. Over sixty, and a father many times
On a Line From Valery (Gulf War)
Tout le ciel vert se meurt Le dernier arbre brûle. The whole green sky is dying. The last tree flares With a great burst of supernatural rose Under a canopy of poisonous airs. Could
Poet's Household
1 The stout poet tiptoes On the lawn. Surprisingly limber In his thick sweater Like a middle-age burglar. Is the young robin injured? 2 She bends to feed the geese Revealing the neck’s white
A Song for Muriel
No-one explains me because There is nothing to explain. It’s all right here Very clear. O for my reputations sake To be difficult and opaque! No-one explains me because Though myopic, I see plain.
Reunion
For more than thirty years we hadn’t met. I remembered the bright query of your face, That single-minded look, intense and stern, Yet most important – how could I forget?- Was what your taught