The Far Field I I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula, The road lined with snow-laden second growth, A fine dry snow ticking the windshield, Alternate snow and sleet, no on-coming traffic, And no lights behind, in the… Continue reading Theodore Roethke
Much of poetry is an anguished waiting. — Theodore Roethke, On Poetry and Craft: Selected Prose. (Copper Canyon Press; First Edition (US) First Printing edition April 1, 2001) Originally published June 1st 1965.
Slow river, fingering a shell, thinking: Once I was something like this, mindless. — Theodore Roethke, from “The Far Field.,” The Far Field. (Bantam Dell Pub Group (Trd); 1st US – 1st Printing edition September 1998)
What Can I Tell My Bones? 1 Beginner, Perpetual beginner, The soul knows not what to believe, In its small folds, stirring sluggishly, In the least place of its life, A pulse beyond nothingness, A fearful ignorance. Before the moon draws back, Dare I blaze like a tree? In a world always late… Continue reading Theodore Roethke
It is difficult to say all things are well, When the worst is about to arrive; It is fatal to woo yourself, However graceful the posture. Loved heart, what can I say? When I was a lark, I sang; When I was a worm, I devoured. The self says, I am;… Continue reading Theodore Roethke
It’s your privilege to find me incomprehensible. I gave you my minutes; let them remain ours. I hope I haunt you. — Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke, 1943-63 (Copper Canyon Press November 1, 2006)
O my poor words, bear with me. — Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke, ed. David Wagoner (Copper Canyon Press November 1, 2006)