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Gary Snyder Poems
Hay for the Horses
He had driven half the night From far down San Joaquin Through Mariposa, up the Dangerous Mountain roads,
Four Poems for Robin
Siwashing It Out Once in Suislaw Forest I slept under rhododendron All nightblossoms fell
There Are Those Who Love To Get Dirty
There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work,
December At Yase
You said, that October, In the tall dry grass by the orchard When you chose to be free, "Again someday, maybe ten years."
Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks. placed solid, by hands In coice of place, set
For Lew Welch In A Snowfall
Snowfall in March: I sit in the white glow reading a thesis About you. Your poems, your life.
Lew Welch just turned up one day, live as you and me. "Damn, Lew" I said, "you didn't shoot yourself after all." "Yes I did" he said,
They didn't hire him so he ate his lunch alone: the noon whistle
Comments about Gary Snyder
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Hay for the Horses
He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous Mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
---The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds---