Charles Simic Poems
|41.||The White Room||1/13/2003|
|45.||Summer In The Country||1/13/2003|
|48.||The Supreme Moment||1/13/2003|
|49.||To The One Upstairs||1/13/2003|
|50.||Read Your Fate||1/13/2003|
|54.||Talking To Little Birdies||1/13/2003|
|55.||The Partial Explanation||1/13/2003|
|56.||The School Of Metaphysics||1/13/2003|
|58.||A Book Full Of Pictures||1/13/2003|
|59.||Heights Of Folly||1/13/2003|
|64.||Eyes Fastened With Pins||1/13/2003|
Comments about Charles Simic
The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw.
A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain.
Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you'll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor ...
The Partial Explanation
Seems like a long time
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.
Seems like it has grown darker
Since I last heard the kitchen door
Behind my back
Since I last noticed