Linda Hogan Poems

There is nothing more innocent
than the still-unformed creature I find beneath soil,
neither of us knowing what it will become
...

I am always watching
the single heron at its place
alone at water, its open eye,
one leg lifted
...

How something is made flesh
no one can say. The buffalo soup
becomes a woman
who sings every day to her horses
...

Some of us are like trees that grow with a spiral grain
as if prepared for the path of  the spirit's journey
to the world of all souls.
...

The language of cranes
we once were told
is the wind. The wind
is their method,
...

It was the time before
I was born.
I was thin.
I was hungry. I was
...

To be held
by the light
was what I wanted,
to be a tree drinking the rain,
...

With lines unseen the land was broken.
When surveyors came, we knew
what the prophet had said was true,
this land with unseen lines would be taken.
...

The weight of a man on a woman
is like falling into the river without drowning.

Above, the world is burning and fighting.
Lost worlds flow through others.
...

In the dark evening, my father and I
walk down the road to the old house
where my grandmother lived,
and we see through the door an old woman's feet
...