Joseph Brodsky

(24 May 1940 – 28 January 1996 / Leningrad)

Letter To An Archaeologist - Poem by Joseph Brodsky

Citizen, enemy, mama's boy, sucker, utter
garbage, panhandler, swine, refujew, verrucht;
a scalp so often scalded with boiling water
that the puny brain feels completely cooked.
Yes, we have dwelt here: in this concrete, brick, wooden
rubble which you now arrive to sift.
All our wires were crossed, barbed, tangled, or interwoven.
Also: we didn't love our women, but they conceived.
Sharp is the sound of pickax that hurts dead iron;
still, it's gentler than what we've been told or have said ourselves.
Stranger! move carefully through our carrion:
what seems carrion to you is freedom to our cells.
Leave our names alone. Don't reconstruct those vowels,
consonants, and so forth: they won't resemble larks
but a demented bloodhound whose maw devours
its own traces, feces, and barks, and barks.


Comments about Letter To An Archaeologist by Joseph Brodsky

  • Gold Star - 33,910 Points Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (5/21/2014 9:22:00 AM)

    Leave our names alone..... It has a losing effect of life and the poem is nice. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: concrete, freedom, women, water, alone, woman



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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