John Ashbery

Rookie (28 July 1927 / Rochester, New York)

John Ashbery Poems

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