Josephine Jacobsen Poems

The sounds are the sea, breaking out of sight,
and down the green slope the children's voices
that celebrate the fact of being eight.
...

The old lady walking, wears gloves. It is a shady
93 and the dogs' tongues drip. The old gentleman under
the dazed tree wears a jacket and, yes, a vest, and shined
black shoes. It is enough to break out flags about.
...

One day
she fell
in love with its
heft and speed.
Tough, lean,
...

It was sudden.
That slightly heaving hotel, from a folder,
was there one instant: through the glass a bloodorange ball
just diving, a pure blue desert of dusk
...

Never can spring be known so well
As in this wicked dark December,
Nor touched—all emerald and limber—
As in this winter citadel.
...

I came upon two wasps
with intricate legs all occupied.
If it was news communicated,
or if they mated or fought,
it was difficult to say of that clasp.
...

There is a terrible hour in the early morning
When men awake and look on the day that brings
The hateful adventure, approaching with no less certainty
Than the light that grows, the untroubled bird that sings.
...

In the grassplot's center was a bed of red roses,
A circle in a pear; round-eyed and fragrant
The great tame blossoms loaded the noon
...

We pray most earnestly: our breath
goes up, to Jesus and his family. Father,
mother; sometimes St. Joseph and the Saints
get into it: Listen to our petition.
...

For Elliott Coleman


The bison, or tiger, or whatever beast
hunting or hunted, and the twiggy hunter
...