Adrienne Rich | Adrienne Rich
May.14.2012
When she heard that Adrienne Rich had passed away in Santa Cruz, my friend, poet Cheryl Clarke, called me from Jersey City at about 5:45 in the morning because she needed to talk to someone else who knew Adrienne as she did. She needed to talk to a writer on the West Coast, the place from which...
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Apr.25.2012
you are not accountable
to the life of your tribe
the breath of your planet..
North American Time, Adrienne Rich
falling into the ocean
the town he grew up in is falling...
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Apr.19.2012
she walked on knives to gain a voice
I was There, Axel, Adrienne Rich
The...
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Apr.15.2012
All is matter, of course, matter-of-course…/
From Sickbed Shores, Adrienne Rich
while we’re on this road
today the sign will be the white flower fallen from the bush
the edges brown one side wilted
or perhaps
the child pointing at the branch sticking out
like a dragon’s neck, wood of...
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Apr.09.2012
Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.
What Kind of Times are These, Adrienne Rich
rhetoric the woods
the spaces between the trees fragment
the sun blades knifing the forest, a slender...
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Apr.08.2012
Human impatience trips you as you run;
Stand still and you must lie.
It is the grass that cuts the mower down;
It is the cloud that swallows up the sky.
Adrienne Rich, Rural Reflections
Not So
I use the word Ironic more than any other adjective--
my constant awe of the unexpected,...
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Apr.07.2012
A conversation begins
with a lie. and each
speaker of the so-called common language feels
the ice-floe split, the drift apart
as if powerless, as if up against
a force of nature
A poem can begin
with a lie. And be torn up.
Adrienne Rich, Cartographies of...
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Apr.05.2012
Take the word
of my pulse, loving and ordinary
From Implosions, Adrienne Rich
For Anthony
We cannot divulge secrets for there are none--
no formula, format or sense of organization.
Our conversations are ordinary in the way of
keeping a house secure, a life safe. We gather at the...
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Apr.04.2012
I know inside my eyelids
and underneath my skin
from Burning Oneself Out, Adrienne Rich
Save Yourself; Remember Nothing
Memory is heavy: stones on the eyes, a flattening the light to dark brown
A blink shutters the thing we didn't mean to see or remember but hangs a sty in every...
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Apr.02.2012
Today I spent the day working on a review of a collection of essays and making notes. No submissions. No replies (to queries or submissions). Only their words, and my response.
"The neccessity of poetry has to be stated over and over, but only to those who have reason to...
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