Author: Mark Strand

In a field I am the absence Of field. This is Always the case. Wherever I am I am what […]

We have done what we wanted. We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry Of each other, and we have […]

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry. The […]

1 We are reading the story of our lives Which takes place in a room. The room looks out on […]

1 When the moon appears And a few wind-stricken barns stand out In the low-domed hills And shine with a […]

I give up my eyes which are glass eggs. I give up my tongue. I give up my mouth which […]

There is a girl you like so you tell her Your penis is big, but that you cannot get yourself […]

I empty myself of the names of others. I empty my pockets. I empty my shoes and leave them beside […]

For Sharon Horvath From the shadow of domes in the city of domes, A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, […]

It is all in the mind, you say, and has Nothing to do with happiness. The coming of cold, The […]

Someone was saying Something about shadows covering the field, about How things pass, how one sleeps towards morning And the […]

1 If a man understands a poem, he shall have troubles. 2 If a man lives with a poem, he […]

Tell yourself As it gets cold and gray falls from the air That you will go on Walking, hearing The […]

The relatives are leaning over, staring expectantly. They moisten their lips with their tongues. I can feel Them urging me […]

It is an old story, the way it happens Sometimes in winter, sometimes not. The listener falls to sleep, The […]