I had to send away for thebeacuse they are not available in any store.They look the same as any sunglasses with a light tint and silvery frames,but instead of filtering out the harmfulrays of the sun....
Central Park It’s hard to describe how that day in the park was altered when I stopped to read an official sign I came across near the great carousel, my lips moving silently like the lips of Saint Am...
But some nights, I must tell you,I go down there after everyone has fallen asleep.I swim back and forth in the echoing blackness.I sing a love song as well as I can,lost for a while in the home of the...
Sometimes the notes are ferocious,skirmishes against the authorraging along the borders of every pagein tiny black script.If I could just get my hands on you,Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,they...
I'm happy to stick with my persona. There are themes of love lost and love regained, but the main themes of all poems are basically love and death, and that seems to be the message of poetry.
It seems only yesterday I used to believethere was nothing under my skin but light.If you cut me I could shine.
One burst after another as my wife turned in her sleep. I was a single monkey trying to type the opening lines of my Hamlet,
You are turning melike someone turning a globe in her hand,and yes, I have another side like a China no one,not even me, has ever seen.So describe to me what's there,say what you are looking atand I w...
We must always look at things from the point of view of eternity, the college theologians used to insist, from which, I imagine, we would all appear to have speed lines trailing behind us as we rush a...
The Sandhill Cranes of Nebraska Too bad you weren’t here six months ago, was a lament I heard on my visit to Nebraska. You could have seen the astonishing spectacle of the sandhill cranes, thousands o...
The Death of Allegory I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance displaying their...
O Canada I have not forgotten you,as I kneel in my canoe, beholding this visionof a bookcase.You are the paddle, the snowshoe, the cabin in the pines.You are the moose in the clearing and the moosehea...
No wonder you rise in the middle of the nightto look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by...
I thanked everyone whose job it ever was to lay hands on the skin of strangers, and I gave general thanks that I was lying facedown in a warm puddle of soap and not a warm puddle of blood in some corn...
Cheerios One bright morning in a restaurant in Chicago as I waited for my eggs and toast, I opened the Tribune only to discover that I was the same age as Cheerios. Indeed, I was a few months older th...
No one here likes a wet dog.
Vade MecumI want the scissors to be sharpand the table perfectly levelwhen you cut me out of my lifeand paste me in that book you always carry.
It might interest you to know,speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,that I am the sound of rain on the roof.I also happen to be the shooting star,the evening paper blowing down an alleyand th...
Do you realize that if you had started building the Parthenon on the day you were born you would be all done in only one more year? Of course, you couldn’t have done it alone, so never mind, you’re fi...
C’è nessuno che voglia unirsi a me nel lanciare alcuni sassi verso quegli insegnanti che amano porre la domanda: «Che cosa sta cercando di dire il poeta?» come se Thomas Hardy e Emily Dickinson si fos...