At sundown when a day’s wordshave gathered at the feet of the treeslining up in silenceto enter the long corridorsof the roots into which theypass one by one thinkingthat they remember the placeas they feel themselves climbingaway from their only soundwhile they are being forgottenby their bright circumstancesthey rise through all of the ringslistening againafterward… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
To the Unlikely Event You have been evoked so oftenlike some relative in officewhom we have heard of by nameall these years but have never met you inhabit a kind of famea void without time or sensesbeyond anything said of youso that doubtless you do not hearthe recurring inadequatereferences to you which risefrom another age… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
I wondered how long it would beuntil you appearedfalling before there wasany knowledge of fallingfalling with no way of knowing — W.S. Merwin, from “To the Beginning of Rain,” Present Company (Copper Canyon Press, 2005)
Some Last Questions What is the head A. Ash What are the eyes A. The wells have fallen in and have InhabitantsWhat are the feet A. Thumbs left after the auctionNo what are the feet A. Under them the impossible road is moving Down which the broken necked mice push Balls of… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
One old man keeps humming the same few notesof some song he thought he had forgottenback in the days when as he knows there wasno word for life in the languageand if they wanted to say eyes or heartthey would hold up a leaf and he remembersthe big tree where it rose from the dry… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
all I did not know went on beginning around meI had thought it would come later but it had been waiting —W.S. Merwin, from “Threshold,” The Vixen. (Knopf; 1St Edition edition March 25, 1997)
Exercise First forget what time it isfor an hourdo it regularly every day then forget what day of the week it isdo this regularly for a weekthen forget what country you are inand practice doing it in companyfor a weekthen do them togetherfor a weekwith as few breaks as possible follow these by forgetting how… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
I think there’s a kind of desperate hope built into poetry that one really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that can be said for the things that one loves while there’s still time. — W.S. Merwin
For some time I thought there was timeand that there would always be timefor what I had a mind to doand what I could imaginegoing back to and finding itas I had found it the first timebut by this time I do not knowwhat I thought when I thought back then there is not time… Continue reading `W.S. Merwin
Long Afternoon Light Small roads written in sleep in the foothillshow long ago and I believed you were lostwith the bronze then deepening in the lightand the shy moss turning to itself holdingits own brightness above the badger’s pathwhile a single crow sailed west without a soundwe trust without giving it a thoughtmeredith rosethat we… Continue reading W.S. Merwin
The Vale of Soul-Making 