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3.1
/10
(10
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In this blue light I can take you there, snow having made me a world of bone seen through to. This is my house,
my section of Etruscan wall, my neighbor's lemontrees, and, just below the lower church, the airplane factory. A rooster
crows all day from mist outside the walls. There's milk on the air, ice on the oily lemonskins. How clean the mind is,
holy grave. It is this girl by Piero della Francesca, unbuttoning her blue dress, her mantle of weather, to go into
labor. Come, we can go in. It is before the birth of god. No one has risen yet to the museums, to the assembly line--bodies
and wings--to the open air market. This is what the living do: go in. It's a long way. And the dress keeps opening from eternity
to privacy, quickening. Inside, at the heart, is tragedy, the present moment forever stillborn, but going in, each breath is a button
coming undone, something terribly nimble-fingered finding all of the stops.
Jorie Graham
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Read poems about / on: weather, birth, girl, snow, house, light, god, world, rose
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Comments about this poem (San Sepolcro
by
Jorie Graham
) |
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Click here to write your
comments about this poem (San Sepolcro by
Jorie Graham
)
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Sheila Frank
(10/20/2009 10:49:00 PM) |
Many vivid moments that take me beyond the poem. Favorite lines 'each breath is a button coming undone' slows the movement even more following'stillborn'. Also 'snow having made me a world of bone' combining an outer and inner element. Very beautiful. I heard Jorie speak with her mother this evening and read some of her work. A wonderful evening of BIG MINDS.
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Jorie Graham
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