It Is March by W.S. Merwin

<< prev. poem	Poems by W.S. Merwin: 9 / 22	next poem >>

<< prev. poem

Top500 Poems : 563 / 500

next poem >>

It Is March

It is March and black dust falls out of the books
Soon I will be gone
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices

When you look back there is always the past
Even when it has vanished
But when you look forward
With your dirty knuckles and the wingless
Bird on your shoulder
What can you write

The bitterness is still rising in the old mines
The fist is coming out of the egg
The thermometers out of the mouths of the corpses

At a certain height
The tails of the kites for a moment are
Covered with footsteps

Whatever I have to do has not yet begun

W.S. Merwin

Read poems about / on: rose

#563

in Top500

User Rating:

6.8 /10
(6 votes)

E-mail this poem to e friend

• Send this poem as eCard

• Add this poem to MyPoemList

• Print friendly version

Comments about this poem (It Is March by W.S. Merwin)

There is no comment submitted by members..

Click here to write your comments about this poem (It Is March by W.S. Merwin)