EppsNet Archive: Poetry

I Feared That the Dam Might Break So I Loosed the River

I can never remake the thing I have destroyed;   I brushed the golden dust from the moth’s bright wing, I called down wind to shatter the cherry-blossoms,   I did a terrible thing. I feared that the cup might fall, so I flung it from me;   I feared that the bird might fly, so I set it free; I feared that… Read more →

You Will Know Whether it Has All Been True

How does a life flash before one’s eyes At the end? How is there time for so much time? You pick up the book and hold it, knowing Long since the failed romance, the strained Marriage, the messenger, the mistake, Knowing it all at once, as if looking through A lighted dormer on the dark crest of a barn. You… Read more →

Essay on the One Hand and the Other

Consider the palms. They are faces, eyes closed, their five spread fingers soft exclamations, sadness or surprise. They have smile lines, sorrow lines, like faces. Like faces, they are hard to read. Somehow the palms, though they have held my life piece by piece, seem young and pale. So much has touched them, nothing has remained. They are innocent, maybe,… Read more →

Though Much is Taken, Much Abides

Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. — Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Ulysses” Read more →

She Never Even Knew It

Chapter XXII of George Eliot’s Middlemarch starts with an epigraph from Alfred de Musset: Nous câusames longtemps; elle était simple et bonne. Ne sachant pas le mal, elle faisait le bien; Des richesses du coeur elle me fit l’aumône, Et tout en écoutant comme le coeur se donne, Sans oser y penser je lui donnai le mien; Elle emporta ma… Read more →

Rhapsody

I am glad daylong for the gift of song,      For time and change and sorrow; For the sunset wings and the world-end things      Which hang on the edge of to-morrow. I am glad for my heart whose gates apart      Are the entrance-place of wonders, Where dreams come in from the rush and din      Like sheep from the rains and thunders.… Read more →

All the Hemispheres

Leave the familiar for a while. Let your senses and bodies stretch out Like a welcomed season Onto the meadows and shores and hills. Open up to the Roof. Make a new water-mark on your excitement And love. Like a blooming night flower, Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness And giving Upon our intimate assembly. Change rooms in your mind… Read more →

Funeral: For Us His Gold

after Gerald Stern The insect was yellow with crumpled-black banded legs         and shellacked back that would outlast us         and wistful eyes from what I could discern on that trail                 between fields, and we laid him out in the open air under a sky fast-blue… Read more →

Ghosts

You must not think that what I have accomplished through you could have been accomplished by any other means. Each of us is to himself indelible. I had to become that which could not be, by time, from human memory, erased. I had to burn my hungry, unappeasable furious spirit so inconsolably into you you would without cease write to… Read more →

How Did the Rose Ever Open Its Heart?

How Did the rose Ever open its heart And give this world All its Beauty? It felt the encouragement of light Against its Being, Otherwise, We all remain Too Frightened — Hafez Read more →

Good Morning Midnight

Good Morning—Midnight— I’m coming Home— Day—got tired of Me— How could I—of Him? Sunshine was a sweet place— I liked to stay— But Morn—didn’t want me—now— So—Goodnight—Day! I can look—can’t I— When the East is Red? The Hills—have a way—then— That puts the Heart—abroad— You—are not so fair—Midnight— I chose—Day— But—please take a little Girl— He turned away! — Emily… Read more →

The Pearl

A raindrop, dripping from a cloud, Was ashamed when it saw the sea. ‘Who am I when there is a sea?’ it said. When it saw itself with the eye of humility, A shell nurtured it in its embrace. — Saadi of Shiraz Read more →

One Last Goodbye

We spread Lightning‘s ashes at Huntington Dog Beach this weekend. We didn’t make a big production of it — it’s probably illegal, for one thing — but we hiked out to the end of the rock pier and gave him back to the sea. The Dog Beach and the Irvine Dog Park were the places he was at his best… Read more →

The Things We Have That Go

It was a spring that never came; But we have lived enough to know That what we never have, remains; It is the things we have that go. — Sara Teasdale, St. Louis poetess, who drowned herself many years ago, circa 1933 Or as Jesus used to say, “For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that… Read more →

2 Weeks

Sometimes I feel I know how the story ends But I go through the motions anyways And try to forget — Arlene Kim Suda, “2 Weeks” Read more →

For My Daughter

When I die choose a star and name it after me that you may know I have not abandoned or forgotten you. You were such a star to me, following you through birth and childhood, my hand in your hand. When I die choose a star and name it after me so that I may shine down on you, until… Read more →

Jesus at Gethsemane

For those not familiar with the story: Jesus knows he’s going to die. He prays to God for help in the garden of Gethsemane, at the Mount of Olives. But there is no answer. If it is true that in the sacred Garden of the Scriptures, The Son of Man said what we see reported; Mute, blind and deaf to… Read more →

Fight

That is the difference between me and you. You pack an umbrella, #30 sun goo And a red flannel shirt. That’s not what I do. I put the top down as soon as we arrive. The temperature’s trying to pass fifty-five. I’m freezing but at least I’m alive. Nothing on earth can diminish my glee. This is Florida, Florida, land… Read more →

Shut Not Your Doors to Me Proud Libraries

Shut not your doors to me, proud libraries, For that which was lacking among you all, yet needed most, I bring; A book I have made for your dear sake, O soldiers, And for you, O soul of man, and you, love of comrades; The words of my book nothing, the life of it everything; A book separate, not link’d… Read more →

January

Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derision outside my window:                                         Play louder. You will not succeed. I am bound more to my sentences the more you batter at me to follow you.                                         And the wind, as before, fingers perfectly its derisive music. — William Carlos Williams, “January” Read more →

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