Franz Wright (2007)
The vast waters flow past its brick yard.
You can purchase a six-pack in bars!
Tammy Wynette's on the marquee
a block down. It's twenty-five years ago:
you went to death, I, to life, and
which was luckier God only knows.
There's this line in an unpublished poem of yours.
The river is like that,
a blind familiar.
The wind will die down when I say so;
the leaden and lessening light on
the current.
Then the moon will rise
like the word reconciliation,
like Walt Whitman examining the tear on a dead face.
Friday, October 19, 2007
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from The New Yorker, October 22, 2007
poet bio: Franz Wright
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