Charles Wright
Tonight, only memories are my company and my grace. / How nice if they could outlive us. — Charles Wright, from “Grace II,” Caribou: Poems (Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 2014)
Tag: Charles Wright
Charles Wright
Desire, at last, a remembered landscape, and never the same hurt twice. — Charles Wright, from “Charles Wright and the 940 Locust Avenue Heraclitean Rhythm Band,” Buffalo Yoga (Farrar, Straus, and Grioux, 2004)
Charles Wright
The formalist implications of the afterlife Seem to reveal, so far, one star and a black voyage To discover our names, Our real names, imperishably inscribed in the registry of light, From which all letters befall. And that suits me for the time being, Afternoon’s alphabet beginning to firm up in the field, Such… Continue reading Charles Wright
Charles Wright
Give me a thing that says nothing. The wind, for instance, A wisdom that comes from ten thousand miles to the west. The trees, for instance, stenographers Of every sentence it isn’t able to utter. The grass that assembles them all in its green pages. — Charles Wright, from “26,” Littlefoot: A… Continue reading Charles Wright
Charles Wright
When what you write about is what you see, what do you write about when it’s dark? — Charles Wright, from “32,” Littlefoot: A Poem (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007)
Charles Wright
The morning is almost silent and cannot declare itself. / Therefore, I say unto it, / you are the never-boring miracle / Of sunlight and scrappy cloud, / The absence of rain when rain is absent, / as it is / This morning, green with its wonderment, — Charles Wright, from “23,” Littlefoot: A Poem… Continue reading Charles Wright
Charles Wright
Thinking about the past is inherently sentimental–one always wishes things had been more of the same, less of the same, or partially or altogether otherwise, if only because we somehow believe the past, our past, still cares for us, as we care for it. This differs it from thinking about the desert, which we know… Continue reading Charles Wright
