Posts Tagged ‘Walt Whitman’



When you wrote of the spider

launching through vacant space,

reeling from one sphere of meaning


to another, you didn’t know then

that you wrote that poem for me.

Two centuries later, this woman


reads about the bridges we are all

trying to form, and Walt, damned

if that wasn’t filament coming out


through your electric fingers.






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To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle.
—Walt Whitman

Balanced against morning frost
I do not see
the great blue heron
wading in the river
so I put it there


Meredith mentions
a student who insists
on painting
into the foreground
a rock


“All she needs is a darker color,”
Meredith says, “and a value
like a triangle
and the canvas
would be full of light”


You do not have
to be talented—even
my three year old girl
knows how to paint
something that makes her smile


It is not a painting,
this life, still
there was a heron here not
long ago, standing in frost
it was so beautiful


Here and not here,
light and dark,
so many years spent
debating the two—this morning
I see it, the river chimed in frost

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