John Ashbery

Rookie (28 July 1927 / Rochester, New York)

John Ashbery Poems

1. The Problem of Anxiety 10/1/2015
2. A Worldly Country 5/21/2016
3. Alms for the Beekeeper 5/21/2016
4. And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name 5/21/2016
5. Anticipated Stranger 5/21/2016
6. Blueprints and Others 5/21/2016
7. Boundary Issues 5/21/2016
8. Bunch of Stuff 5/21/2016
9. The Bungalows 5/21/2016
10. By Guess and by Gosh 5/21/2016
11. Chinese Whispers 5/21/2016
12. Day Bump 5/21/2016
13. Dramedy 5/21/2016
14. El Dorado 5/21/2016
15. How to Continue 5/21/2016
16. Last Month 5/21/2016
17. Late Echo 5/21/2016
18. Late-ish 5/21/2016
19. Leave the Hand In 5/21/2016
20. Like a Sentence 5/21/2016
21. The Mauve Notebook 5/21/2016
22. Mean Particles 5/21/2016
23. My Erotic Double 5/21/2016
24. The Painter 5/21/2016
25. People Behaving Badly a Concern 5/21/2016
26. Pyrography 5/21/2016
27. Rivers and Mountains 5/21/2016
28. Street Musicians 5/21/2016
29. These Lacustrine Cities 5/21/2016
30. Uptick 5/21/2016
31. Vetiver 5/21/2016
32. Wet Casements 5/21/2016
33. Steel and Air 8/13/2016
34. The New Higher 6/2/2015
35. This Room 5/21/2016
36. Meaningful Love 12/5/2015
37. A Voice from the Fireplace 1/27/2016
38. Hotel Lautréamont 2/10/2015
39. The Dong With The Luminous Nose 2/2/2015
40. Soonest Mended 10/20/2015
Best Poem of John Ashbery

Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

As Parmigianino did it, the right hand
Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer
And swerving easily away, as though to protect
What it advertises. A few leaded panes, old beams,
Fur, pleated muslin, a coral ring run together
In a movement supporting the face, which swims
Toward and away like the hand
Except that it is in repose. It is what is
Sequestered. Vasari says, "Francesco one day set himself
To take his own portrait, looking at himself from that purpose
In a convex mirror, such as is used by barbers . . .
He accordingly caused a ball of wood to be ...

Read the full of Self-Portrait In A Convex Mirror

Syringa

Orpheus liked the glad personal quality
Of the things beneath the sky. Of course, Eurydice was a part
Of this. Then one day, everything changed. He rends
Rocks into fissures with lament. Gullies, hummocks
Can't withstand it. The sky shudders from one horizon
To the other, almost ready to give up wholeness.
Then Apollo quietly told him: "Leave it all on earth.
Your lute, what point? Why pick at a dull pavan few care to
Follow, except a few birds of dusty feather,

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