Gary Snyder Poems
|1.||As For Poets||4/14/2015|
|2.||How Poetry Comes To Me||4/14/2015|
|4.||Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout||7/27/2015|
|5.||Beneath My Hand And Eye The Distant Hills, Your Body||7/27/2015|
|6.||Endless Streams and Mountains||7/27/2015|
|7.||Milton by Firelight||8/27/2015|
|8.||For The Children||10/23/2015|
|9.||Finding The Space In The Heart||12/24/2015|
|10.||Night Song of the Los Angeles Basin -new-||4/30/2016|
|11.||A Maul for Bill and Cindy's Wedding||10/13/2015|
|15.||For Lew Welch In A Snowfall||1/13/2003|
|16.||December At Yase||1/13/2003|
|17.||There Are Those Who Love To Get Dirty||1/13/2003|
|18.||Four Poems For Robin||1/20/2003|
|19.||Hay For The Horses||1/20/2003|
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---
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,
and even then I felt the tingling down my back.
"Yes you did, too" I said—"I can feel it now."
"Yeah" he said,
"There's a basic fear between your world and
mine. I don't know why.