James Arlington Wright
James Arlington Wright was an American poet.
Wright first emerged on the literary scene in 1956 with The Green Wall, a collection of formalist verse that was awarded the prestigious Yale Younger Poets Prize. But by the early 1960s, Wright, increasingly influenced by the Spanish language surrealists, had dropped fixed meters. His transformation achieved its maximum expression with the publication of the seminal The Branch Will Not Break (1963), which positioned Wright as curious counterpoint to the Beats and New York schools, which predominated on the American coasts.
This transformation had not come by accident, as Wright had been working for years with his friend ... more »
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James Arlington Wright Poems
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness.
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Fa...
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly, Asleep on the black trunk, blowing like a leaf in green shadow. Down the ravine behind the empty house,
Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
In the Shreve High football stadium, I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville, And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood, And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
The moon drops one or two feathers into the fiels. The dark wheat listens. Be still. Now.
When I went out to kill myself, I caught A pack of hoodlums beating up a man. Running to spare his suffering, I forgot My name, my number, how my day began,
Depressed by a Book of Bad Poetry, I Wal...
Relieved, I let the book fall behind a stone. I climb a slight rise of grass. I do not want to disturb the ants Who are walking single file up the fence post,
Having Lost My Sons, I Confront the Wrec...
After dark Near the South Dakota border, The moon is out hunting, everywhere, Delivering fire,
I was only a young man In those days. On that evening The cold was so God damned Bitter there was nothing.
Fear Is What Quickens Me
1 Many animals that our fathers killed in America Had quick eyes.
Goodbye to the Poetry of Calcium
Dark cypresses-- The world is uneasily happy; It will all be forgotten. --Theodore Storm
A Winter Daybreak Above Vence
The night's drifts Pile up below me and behind my back, Slide down the hill, rise again, and build Eerie little dunes on the roof of the house.
In Response to a Rumor That the Oldest W...
I will grieve alone, As I strolled alone, years ago, down along The Ohio shore. I hid in the hobo jungle weeds
Bologna: A Poem About Gold
Give me this time, my first and severe Italian, a poem about gold, The left corners of eyes, and the heavy Night of the locomotives that brought me here,
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the ...