Carolyn Kizer Poems
|1.||The Great Blue Heron||6/12/2015|
|3.||Where I've Been All My Life||1/14/2016|
|4.||Amusing Our Daughters||1/10/2018|
|5.||The Erotic Philosophers||1/10/2018|
|7.||Food of Love||1/10/2018|
|8.||Lines to Accompany Flowers for Eve||1/10/2018|
|12.||Summer near the River||1/10/2018|
|13.||Through a Glass Eye, Lightly||1/10/2018|
|14.||What the Bones Know||1/10/2018|
|17.||How It Passes||1/10/2018|
|19.||Election Day, 1984||1/10/2018|
|20.||A Muse Of Water||11/24/2014|
|22.||Days Of 1986||1/3/2003|
|23.||A Song For Muriel||1/3/2003|
|25.||The Ungrateful Garden||1/3/2003|
|27.||On A Line From Valéry (The Gulf War)||1/20/2003|
|30.||A Poet's Household||1/3/2003|
Comments about Carolyn Kizer
For more than thirty years we hadn't met.
I remembered the bright query of your face,
That single-minded look,intense and stern,
Yet most important -how could I forget?-
Was what your taught me inadvertantly
(tutored by books and parents, even more
By my own awe at what was yet to learn):
The finest intellect can be a bore.
At this, perhaps our final interview,
Still luminous with your passion to instruct,
You speak to that recalcitrant pupil who
Inhaled the chalk-dust of your rhetoric.
I nod, I sip my wine, I praise your view,
Grateful, my dear, that...
Arms and the girl I sing - O rare
arms that are braceleted and white and bare
arms that were lovely Helen's, in whose name
Greek slaughtered Trojan. Helen was to blame.
Scape-nanny call her; wars for turf
and profit don't sound glamorous enough.