Ruth Stone Poems

Things will be different.
No one will lose their sight,
their hearing, their gallbladder.
It will be all Catskills with brand
...

Here is not exactly here
because it passed by there
two seconds ago;
...

The shock comes slowly
as an afterthought.
...

In ’29 before the dust storms
sandblasted Indianapolis,
we believed in the milk company.
Milk came in glass bottles.
...

Writing poems about writing poems
is like rolling bales of hay in Texas.
Nothing but the horizon to stop you.
...

If you had a lot of money
(by some coincidence
you’re at the Nassau Inn in Princeton
getting a whiff of class)
...

To you born into violence,
the wars of the red ant are nothing;
you, in the heart of the eruption.
...

I wore a large brim hat
like the women in the ads.
How thin I was: such skin.
Yes. It was Indianapolis;
...

At the doughnut shop
twenty-three silverbacks
are lined up at the bar,
sitting on the stools.
...

It is so hard to see where it is,
but it is there even in the morning
when the miracle of shapes
assemble and become familiar,
...