John Ashbery

Rookie (28 July 1927 / Rochester, New York)

John Ashbery Poems

1. The New Higher 6/2/2015
2. The Problem of Anxiety 10/1/2015
3. A Voice from the Fireplace 1/27/2016
4. A Worldly Country 5/21/2016
5. Alms for the Beekeeper 5/21/2016
6. And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name 5/21/2016
7. Anticipated Stranger 5/21/2016
8. Blueprints and Others 5/21/2016
9. Boundary Issues 5/21/2016
10. Bunch of Stuff 5/21/2016
11. The Bungalows 5/21/2016
12. By Guess and by Gosh 5/21/2016
13. Chinese Whispers 5/21/2016
14. Day Bump 5/21/2016
15. Dramedy 5/21/2016
16. El Dorado 5/21/2016
17. How to Continue 5/21/2016
18. Last Month 5/21/2016
19. Late Echo 5/21/2016
20. Late-ish 5/21/2016
21. Leave the Hand In 5/21/2016
22. Like a Sentence 5/21/2016
23. The Mauve Notebook 5/21/2016
24. Mean Particles 5/21/2016
25. My Erotic Double 5/21/2016
26. The Painter 5/21/2016
27. People Behaving Badly a Concern 5/21/2016
28. Pyrography 5/21/2016
29. Rivers and Mountains 5/21/2016
30. These Lacustrine Cities 5/21/2016
31. This Room 5/21/2016
32. Uptick 5/21/2016
33. Vetiver 5/21/2016
34. Wet Casements 5/21/2016
35. Steel and Air -new- 8/13/2016
36. Meaningful Love 12/5/2015
37. Street Musicians 5/21/2016
38. Hotel Lautréamont 2/10/2015
39. The Dong With The Luminous Nose 2/2/2015
40. Soonest Mended 10/20/2015
Best Poem of John Ashbery

Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

As Parmigianino did it, the right hand
Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer
And swerving easily away, as though to protect
What it advertises. A few leaded panes, old beams,
Fur, pleated muslin, a coral ring run together
In a movement supporting the face, which swims
Toward and away like the hand
Except that it is in repose. It is what is
Sequestered. Vasari says, "Francesco one day set himself
To take his own portrait, looking at himself from that purpose
In a convex mirror, such as is used by barbers . . .
He accordingly caused a ball of wood to be ...

Read the full of Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

Syringa

Orpheus liked the glad personal quality
Of the things beneath the sky. Of course, Eurydice was a part
Of this. Then one day, everything changed. He rends
Rocks into fissures with lament. Gullies, hummocks
Can't withstand it. The sky shudders from one horizon
To the other, almost ready to give up wholeness.
Then Apollo quietly told him: "Leave it all on earth.
Your lute, what point? Why pick at a dull pavan few care to
Follow, except a few birds of dusty feather,

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