Untitled Poem

Hafiz (Persian, c. 1320-89)

All I want to do
is get drunk with my wife

An endless glass of wine
both of us on the floor

So what if squares
Look down on us?

Boring and misguided
are their miserable lives

When my wife is in the city
and I'm home
I want to cry

The moonlight
on the cypress tree
is a bitter light

No book has ever kissed me
like she does

Girl Watching

Dan Brown (2013)

In the years I've been at this
(Lots, not to be precise)
You'd think that once or twice
At least I would have seen
Some anomalies. I mean
Some major ones. As in
Not feet but little wheels,
Or crests like cockatiels'.
Where are they keeping the girls
With a chrome exterior,
Or and extra derriere?
Apparently nowhere.
Assuming my sample's valid,
The pool is limited
To the standard types I've tallied;
Such variance as there is
In the usual congeries
Of physiognomies—
And yet enough of it
To be worth looking at.
The walking by, for that,
Of the same girl over and over
Would be no cross to bear
If it were that one there.

My Weather

Jane Hirshfield (2012)

Wakeful, sleepy, hungry, anxious,
restless, stunned, relieved.

Does a tree also?
A mountain?

A cup holds
sugar, flour, three large rabbit-breaths of air.

I hold these.

Cheerios

Billy Collins (2012)

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 than Cheerios
for today, the newspaper announced,
was the seventieth birthday of Cheerios
whereas mine had occurred earlier in the year.

Already I could hear them whispering
behind my stooped and threadbare back,
Why that dude's older than Cheerios
the way they used to say

Why that's as old as the hills,
only the hills are much older than Cheerios
or any American breakfast cereal,
and more noble and enduring are the hills,

I surmised as a bar of sunlight illuminated my orange juice.

Neither Here Nor There

W.S. Merwin (2012)

An airport is nowhere
which is not something
generally noticed

yet some unnamed person in the past
deliberately planned it
to be there

and you have spent time there
again
and are spending time there again
for something you have done
which you do not entirely remember
like the souls of Purgatory

you sit there in the smell
of what passes for food
breathing what is called air
while the timepieces measure
their agreement

you believe in it
while you are there
because you are there
and sometimes you may even feel happy
to be that far on your way
to somewhere

By the Same Author

James Longenbach (2012)

Today, no matter if it rains,
It's time to follow the path into the forest.


The same people will be walking the same dogs,
Or if not the same dogs, dogs that behave in similar fashions,
Some barking, some standing aloof.
The owners carry plastic bags.


But this is the forest, they complain, we must do as we like.
We must let the dogs run free,
We must follow their example,
The way we did when we were young.


Back then we slept, watched TV—
We were the dogs.
By the time the screen door slammed, we were gone.


Nobody really talks like that in the forest.
They're proud of their dogs,
Proud especially of the ones who never bark.
They're upset about the Norway maple, it's everywhere,
Crowding out the hickories and oaks.


Did you know it takes a million seeds to make one tree?
Your chances of surviving in the forest,
Of replicating yourself, are slim.


Today, the smaller dogs are wearing raincoats,
The bigger ones are stiffing it out.
They're tense, preoccupied,
Running in circles,
Getting tangled in the leash—


It's hard remaining human in the forest.
To move the limbs of the body,
To speak intelligible words,
These things promise change.

Opus Posthumous

James Longenbach (2012)

When I painted, everybody saw.

When I played piano, everybody heard.

I ate your raspberries.

The sign no trespassing applied to me.

Now, the hemlocks have grown higher than the house.

There's moss on my stoop, a little mildew

In the shower but you've never seen my shower.

I can undress by the window,

I can sleep in the barn.

The sky, which is cloudy,

Suits the earth to which it belongs.