Charles Simic
Heights Of Folly
O crows circling over my head and cawing! I admit to being, at times, Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, Exceedingly happy. On a morning otherwise sunless, Strolling arm in arm Past some gallows-shaped
Poem Without A Title
I say to the lead Why did you let yourself Be cast into a bullet? Have you forgotten the alchemists? Have you given up hope In turning into gold? Nobody answers. Lead. Bullet. With
Against Winter
The truth is dark under your eyelids. What are you going to do about it? The birds are silent; there’s no one to ask. All day long you’ll squint at the gray sky. When
Inner Man
It isn’t the body That’s a stranger. It’s someone else. We poke the same Ugly mug At the world. When I scratch He scratches too. There are women Who claim to have held him.
Private Eye
To find clues where there are none, That’s my job now, I said to the Dictionary on my desk. The world beyond My window has grown illegible, And so has the clock on the
The Initiate
St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses As he passed me on the street. St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave, Turned her back on me. “Soulmate,” they hissed. “It’s high time.” I
Coal
Dismembered angel In whose heart the earth is still on fire, The moon still has not been split-off; Here is the message Your long night announces: Everything my eye encompasses this instant: This fire,
To The One Upstairs
Boss of all bosses of the universe. Mr. know-it-all, wheeler-dealer, wire-puller, And whatever else you’re good at. Go ahead, shuffle your zeros tonight. Dip in ink the comets’ tails. Staple the night with starlight.
Clouds Gathering
It seemed the kind of life we wanted. Wild strawberries and cream in the morning. Sunlight in every room. The two of us walking by the sea naked. Some evenings, however, we found ourselves
Hotel Insomnia
I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month A crippled old man came to play “My Blue Heaven.” Mostly, though,
Read Your Fate
A world’s disappearing. Little street, You were too narrow, Too much in the shade already. You had only one dog, One lone child. You hid your biggest mirror, Your undressed lovers. Someone carted them
Mummy's Curse
Befriending an eccentric young woman The sole resident of a secluded Victorian mansion. She takes long walks in the evening rain, And so do I, with my hair full of dead leaves. In her
Country Fair
for Hayden Carruth If you didn’t see the six-legged dog, It doesn’t matter. We did, and he mostly lay in the corner. As for the extra legs, One got used to them quickly And
The White Room
The obvious is difficult To prove. Many prefer The hidden. I did, too. I listened to the trees. They had a secret Which they were about to Make known to me And then didn’t.
How To Psalmodize
1. The Poet Someone awake when others are sleeping, Asleep when others are awake. An illiterate who signs everything with an X. A man about to be hanged cracking a joke. 2. The Poem