Charles Wright Poems
|1.||Littlefoot, 19, (This Is The Bird Hour)||5/21/2015|
|2.||A Short History of the Shadow||6/3/2016|
|3.||The Appalachian Book of the Dead||6/3/2016|
|6.||Dio Ed Io||6/3/2016|
|7.||Nine-Panel Yaak River Screen||6/3/2016|
|9.||Spider Crystal Ascension||6/3/2016|
|11.||Words and the Diminution of All Things||6/3/2016|
|14.||Stone Canyon Nocturne||6/3/2016|
|15.||Sitting Outside at the End of Autumn||6/3/2016|
|18.||Still Life On A Matchbox Lid||3/15/2005|
|19.||Body And Soul Ii||1/20/2003|
|21.||After Reading Tu Fu, I Go Outside To The Dwarf Orchard||1/20/2003|
After Reading Tu Fu, I Go Outside To The Dwarf Orchard
East of me, west of me, full summer.
How deeper than elsewhere the dusk is in your own yard.
Birds fly back and forth across the lawn
looking for home
As night drifts up like a little boat.
Day after day, I become of less use to myself.
Like this mockingbird,
I flit from one thing to the next.
What do I have to look forward to at fifty-four?
Tomorrow is dark.
Day-after-tomorrow is darker still.
The sky dogs are whimpering.
Fireflies are dragging the hush of evening
up from the damp grass.
Into the world's tumult, into the chaos of every ...
Body And Soul Ii
The structure of landscape is infinitesimal,
Like the structure of music,
Even the rain has larger sutures.
What holds the landscape together, and what holds music together,
Is faith, it appears--faith of the eye, faith of the ear.
Nothing like that in language,
However, clouds chugging from west to east like blossoms
Blown by the wind.