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To lie in your child's bed when she is gone Is calming as anything I know. To fall Asleep, her books arranged above your head, Is to admit that you have never been…
Mark F. Jarman is an American poet and critic often identified with the New Narrative branch of the New Formalism; he was co-editor with Robert McDowell of The Reaper throughout the 1980s. Centennial Professor of English at Vanderbilt University, he is the author of ten books of poetry, two books of essays, and a book of essays co-authored with Robert McDowell. He co-edited the anthology Rebel Angels: 25 Poets of the New Formalism with David Mason. Jarman's awards for poetry include a Joseph Henry Jackson Award, three grants from the NEA, and a fellowship from the John Simon Guggenheim Foundation. His book The Black Riviera won the 1991 Poets' Prize. Questions for Ecclesiastes was a finalist for the 1997 National Book Critics Circle Award in poetry and won the 1998 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize from the Academy of American Poets and The Nation magazine.)
Mark Jarman şiirleri
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There is a Renaissance painting of paradise In which people, still in their human bodies, Are embracing as if they'd just arrived in paradise Or—because some are angels—were being…
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The wave breaks And I'm carried into it. This is hell, I know, Yet my father laughs,…
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Black Phoebe Highwayman of the air, coal-headed, darting Plunderer of gnat hordes, lasso with beak -…
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Is nothing real but when I was fifteen, Going on sixteen, like a corny song? I see myself so clearly then, and painfully-- Knees bleeding through my usher's uniform…
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To raise a stump of rock into a tower, rolling a stone in place as the years pass. Strangers who only know your silhouette bid it farewell and travel to Japan,…
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My parents have come home laughing From the feast for Robert Burns, late, on foot; They have leaned against graveyard walls, Have bent double in the glittering frost,…
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Roland was a Paladin of Charlemagne, And he was my mother's cousin. The Paladin Served Charlemagne and died, blowing his horn. The cousin spent a day with her at the fair…
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Tall blades of tufted grasses, keep on flowing. Towhees like good ideas, keep on flowing. Pooled water, black in shadow, green in sunshine, With wild olives bending down to drink,…
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Sick as it approaches, sick as it departs. In fall the hulks of burned out houses stand unrazed. In winter bearded with fire truck ice they stand unrazed. The ice cream maker, the…
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There they are again.It's after dark. The rain begins its sober comedy, Slicking down their hair as they wait Under a pepper tree or eucalyptus,…
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How do you turn into a flower of the field, the lily clothed to make Solomon rue his glory? What leap takes off from here towards evolution, pointing the way to the pearly everlast…
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In Ball's Market after surfing till noon, We stand in wet trunks, shivering, As icing dissolves off our sweet rolls Inside the heat-blued counter oven,…
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They were talking to him about resurrection, about law, about the suffering ahead. They were talking as if to remind him who he was and who they were. He was not…