Charles Simic Poems
|41.||The Oldest Child||1/13/2003|
|45.||The Supreme Moment||1/13/2003|
|46.||To The One Upstairs||1/13/2003|
|48.||Summer In The Country||1/13/2003|
|51.||The Partial Explanation||1/13/2003|
|53.||Talking To Little Birdies||1/13/2003|
|54.||Read Your Fate||1/13/2003|
|55.||The School Of Metaphysics||1/13/2003|
|56.||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 mail truck goes down the coast
Carrying a single letter.
At the end of a long pier
The bored seagull lifts a leg now and then
And forgets to put it down.
There is a menace in the air
Of tragedies in the making.
Last night you thought you heard television