William Matthews Poems
|5.||A Small Room In Aspen||4/21/2010|
|7.||Foul Shots: A Clinic||4/21/2010|
|9.||A Roadside Near Ithaca||4/21/2010|
|10.||On The Porch At The Frost Place, Franconia, N. H.||1/13/2003|
|11.||Poem (The Lump Of Coal My Parents Teased)||1/13/2003|
|12.||A Happy Childhood||4/21/2010|
|13.||Mingus At The Showplace||1/13/2003|
|15.||A Life Of Crime||4/21/2010|
|18.||Homer's Seeing-Eye Dog||1/13/2003|
|20.||A Poetry Reading At West Point||1/13/2003|
A Poetry Reading At West Point
I read to the entire plebe class,
in two batches. Twice the hall filled
with bodies dressed alike, each toting
a copy of my book. What would my
shrink say, if I had one, about
such a dream, if it were a dream?
Question and answer time.
"Sir," a cadet yelled from the balcony,
and gave his name and rank, and then,
closing his parentheses, yelled
"Sir" again. "Why do your poems give
me a headache when I try
to understand them?" he asked. "Do
you want that?" I have a gift for
gentle jokes to defuse tension,
but this was not the time to use ...
I like divorce. I love to compose
letters of resignation; now and then
I send one in and leave in a lemon-
hued Huff or a Snit with four on the floor.
Do you like the scent of a hollyhock?
To each his own. I love a burning bridge.
I like to watch the small boat go over
the falls -- it swirls in a circle