the shortlist of the choicest snippets from her poems
(for which i have to mercilessly exclude whole favorite poems)
"...You lie on last year's grass
bathed in sunlight to the chin
while winds of summer past
caress your hair and seem
to lead you in a dance..." [ Classifieds ]
"...The hour when the earth takes back its warm embrace.
The hour of cool drafts from extinguished stars..." [ Four A.M. ]
"...Between them and the people,
according to the plan,
the trees alone would sing
their silence on command.
Between them and the people..." [ Funeral(I) ]
"...So these are the Himalayas.
Mountains racing to the moon.
The moment of their start recorded
on the startling, ripped canvas of the sky..." [ Notes from a Nonexistent Himalayan Expedition ]
"...No day copies yesterday,
no two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with exactly the same kisses..." [ Nothing Twice ]
"...Reflected in the rippling lake,
trees trembled, nebulous and gray; ..." [ Commemoration ]
"...Since eternity was out of stock,
ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead..." [ Museum ]
"...Which one of them is doubled and which missing?
Which one is smiling with two smiles?
Whose voice forms a two-part canon?
When both heads nod, which one agrees?..." [ Golden Anniversary ]
"...History rounds off skeletons to zero.
A thousand and one is still only a thousand.
That one seems to never have existed:
a fictitious fetus, an empty cradle,
a primer opened for no one,
air that laughs, cries, and grows,
stairs for a void bounding out to the garden,
no one's spot in the ranks..." [ Starvation Camp Near Jaslo ]
"...Job does not want to talk to them. Job wants to talk to the Lord..." [ Synopsis]
"...In Heraclitus's river
I, the solitary fish, a fish apart
(apart at least from the tree fish and the stone fish),
write, at isolated moments, a tiny fish or two
whose glittering scales, so fleeting,
may only be the dark's embarrassed wink." [ In Heraclitus's River ]
" ...The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand." [ The Joy of Wriing ]
"...They appeared to me for a long, long, happy time.
I woke up. I opened my eyes.
I touched the world, a chiseled picture frame." [ Memory Finally ]
"...While they kissed
with not our lips,
a suitcase disappeared,
not mine..." [ The Railroad Station ]
"...Oh how grassy is this hopper,
how this berry ripely rasps...
...I tug at life by its leaf hem:
will it stop for me, just once,
momentarily forgetting
to what end it runs and rns?" [ Allegro Ma Non Troppo ]
"A few clods of dirt, and his life will be forgotten.
The music will break free from circumstance..." [ The Classic ]
"...The little soul roams among those landscapes,
disappears, returns, draws near, moves away,
evasive and a stranger to itself,
now sure, now uncertain of its existence,
whereas the body is and is and is
and has nowhere to go." [ Tortures ]
"...One of many miracles:
a small and airy cloud
is able to upstage the massive moon..." [ Miracle Fair ]
"I should have begun with this: the sky.
A window minus sill, frame, and panes.
An aperture, nothing more,
but wide open..." [ Sky ]
"...Every passing moments has its fertile past,
its Friday before Saturday,
its May before June...
...So it happens that I am and look.
Above me a white butterfly is fluttering through the air
on wings that are its alone,
and a shadow skims through my hands
that is none other than itself, no one else's but its own..." [ No Title Required ]
"...Those who knew
what this was all about
must make way for those
who know little.
And less than that.
And at last nothing less than nothing..." [ The End and the Beginning ]
"...Where Hiroshima had been
Hiroshima is again..." [ Reality Demands ]
"...Without us dreams couldn't exist.
The one on whom the real world depends
is still unknown..." [ The Real World ]
"...Something doesn't start
at its usual time.
Something doesn't happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared..." [ Cat in an Empty Apartment ]
"...I take note of the fact
that the shore of a certain lake
is still--as if you were living--
as lovely as before..." [ Parting With A View ]