James Dickey Poems
|1.||The Strength Of Fields||4/22/2010|
|3.||In The Marble Quarry||4/22/2010|
|4.||At Darien Bridge||4/22/2010|
|5.||Bums On Waking||4/22/2010|
|7.||In The Tree House At Night||4/22/2010|
|8.||Creation Made Like Hope||4/22/2010|
|9.||The Dusk Of Horses||5/7/2012|
|11.||The Shark's Parlor||4/22/2010|
|15.||Pursuit From Under||4/22/2010|
|17.||For The Last Wolverine||4/22/2010|
|18.||Hunting Civil War Relics At Nimblewill Creek||5/7/2012|
|19.||The Hospital Window||4/22/2010|
|21.||The Heaven Of Animals||3/5/2006|
The Heaven Of Animals
Here they are. The soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood.
If they have lived on plains
It is grass rolling
Under their feet forever.
Having no souls, they have come,
Anyway, beyond their knowing.
Their instincts wholly bloom
And they rise.
The soft eyes open.
To match them, the landscape flowers,
Outdoing what is required:
The richest wood,
The deepest field.
For some of these,
It could not be the place
It is, without blood.
These hunt, as they have done,
But with claws and...
We have all been in rooms
We cannot die in, and they are odd places, and sad.
Often Indians are standing eagle-armed on hills
In the sunrise open wide to the Great Spirit
Or gliding in canoes or cattle are browsing on the walls
Far away gazing down with the eyes of our children
Not far away or there are men driving