Can Poetry Save the Earth?: A Field Guide to Nature Poems
lines that wanted none. “When experiencing the full reality of something alive, one does not, to begin with, say its name”—good ...
SOMETHING ALIVE IN MAY SWENSON 243 Unconscious U came a beauty to my n wrist c and stopped my pencil, o merged its shadow profil ...
244 PA RT T W O window-wings. Was this poem the one being written when the pencil stopped, or another? Maybe human stillness, se ...
SOMETHING ALIVE IN MAY SWENSON 245 be mimicking Dickinson. A bee rolls in the yellow rose. Does she invite his hairy rub? He scr ...
246 PA RT T W O Its curve does not break, though it looks as if it will, like the head of the dune- shaped wave advancing... Flu ...
May Swenson. Reprinted with permission of the Literary Estate of May Swenson. ...
248 PA RT T W O A decade later May Swenson died. On a granite bench above her grave in Utah, hinting at a girl with “mouth all g ...
PART THREE ...
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251 “care in such a world” Earth Home to William Stafford he earth was my home; I would never feel lost while it held me.” As a ...
252 PART THREE casually assumed. In that spirit his poems take care with place-names. “This is the hand I dipped in the Missouri ...
EARTH HOME TO WILLIAM STAFFORD 253 they looked out over the earth, and the north wind felt like truth. Fluttering in that wind t ...
254 PART THREE The well rising without sound, the spring on a hillside, the plowshare brimming through deep ground everywhere in ...
EARTH HOME TO WILLIAM STAFFORD 255 The sharp swallows in their swerve After the spring and all, new life strikes, those sw’s sti ...
256 PART THREE purely physical, nonhuman vocabulary so far, gives way to human reason. A colon buttressing the line, this poem’s ...
EARTH HOME TO WILLIAM STAFFORD 257 Listening to William Stafford speak his poems feels like walking with some- one who’d like to ...
258 PART THREE Ready for a change, the elbows waited. The hands gripped hard on the desert. As ever, attentiveness enlivens thin ...
259 “The season’s ill” America’s Angst and Robert Lowell’s ity the planet, all joy gone / from this sweet volcanic cone.” It ’s ...
260 PART THREE Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail Whistle about us their spontaneous cries; Sweet berries ripen in the ...
AMERICA’S ANGST AND ROBERT LOWELL’S 261 This is the end of running on the waves; We are poured out like water. The whale draws a ...
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