American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Charles Wright

There is an otherness inside us We never touch,                                 no matter how far down our hands reach. It is the past,                            with its good looks and Anytime, Anywhere … Our prayers go out to it, our arms go out to it Year after year, But who can ever remember enough? — Charles Wright,… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Wright

I find, after all these years, I am a believer— I believe what the thunder and lightning have to say; I believe that dreams are real,                                                      and that death has two reprisals; I believe that dead leaves and black water fill my heart. I shall die like a cloud, beautiful, white, full of nothingness.… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Charles Wright

I keep on thinking.                                      If I sit here for long enough, A line, one true line, Will rise like some miraculous fish to the surface, Brilliant and lithe in the late sunlight, And offer itself into my hands. I keep thinking that as the weeks go by,                                                                          and the waters never change. —… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Wright

The words, like bees in a sweet ink, cluster and drone, Indifferent, indelible, A hum and a hum: Back stairsteps to God, ropes to the glass eye: Vineyard, informer, the chair, the throne. Mojo and numberless, breaths From the wet mountains and green mouths; rustlings, Sure sleights of hand, The news that arrives from nowhere:… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry

Charles Wright

A Short History of the Shadow Thanksgiving, dark of the moon. Nothing down here in the underworld but vague shapes and black holes,    Heaven resplendent but virtual Above me,                     trees stripped and triple-wired like Irish harps.    Lights on Pantops and Free Bridge mirror the eastern sky.    Under the bridge is the… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Fragment · Poetry

Charles Wright

Is it age, is it lack of adoration, is it Regret there’s no ladder to the clouds? Whatever, we inhabit the quotidian, as we must, While somewhere behind our backs,                                                      waterfalls tumble and keep on going Into the deep desire of distance. — Charles Wright, “Waterfalls,” Caribou (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2014)

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American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Charles Wright

Some lights are from stars, some from the sun And moon, and other lights are from fires. The light from the stars makes the shadow equal to the body.    Light from fire makes it greater,                         there, under the tongue, there, under the utterance. — Charles Wright, from “A Short History of the Shadow,”… Continue reading Charles Wright

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