Claudia Emerson

(13 January 1957 / Chatham, Virginia)

Claudia Emerson Poems

1. After The Affair 3/21/2012
2. Aftermath 3/21/2012
3. Animal Funerals, 1964 3/21/2012
4. Artifact 3/21/2012
5. Bee 5/28/2018
6. Beginning Sculpture: The Subtractive Method 3/21/2012
7. Bone 1/20/2003
8. Bone 5/28/2018
9. Breaking Up The House 3/21/2012
10. Buying The Painted Turtle 3/21/2012
11. Catfish 5/28/2018
12. Drybridge 5/28/2018
13. Early Elegy: Headmistress 5/28/2018
14. Early Elegy: Smallpox 5/28/2018
15. Eight Ball 5/28/2018
16. ENVIRONMENTAL AWARENESS: THE RIGHT WHALE 5/28/2018
17. Ephemeris 3/21/2012
18. Fire Drill 3/21/2012
19. Frame, an Epistle 5/28/2018
20. Frame: An Epistle 3/21/2012
21. Funny Valentine 3/21/2012
22. GREAT DEPRESSION STORY 5/28/2018
23. Ground Truth 5/28/2018
24. Homecoming 3/21/2012
25. Lifeguard 5/28/2018
26. Metastasis: Worry-Moth 5/28/2018
27. On Leaving the Body to Science 5/28/2018
28. Orchid Anatomy 3/21/2012
29. Photographer 3/21/2012
30. PHYSICAL EDUCATION 5/28/2018
31. Piano Fire 3/21/2012
32. Pitching Horseshoes 3/21/2012
33. Posessions 3/21/2012
34. REUNION WEEKEND 5/28/2018
35. Second Bearing 1919 3/21/2012
36. Spring Ice Storm 3/21/2012
37. Stable 3/21/2012
38. Stable 5/28/2018
39. Surface Hunting 3/21/2012
40. The Bat 3/21/2012

Comments about Claudia Emerson

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Claudia Emerson

Bone

It was first dark when the plow turned it up.
Unsown, it came fleshless, mud-ruddled, nothing
but itself, the tendon's bored eye threading
a ponderous needle. And yet the pocked fist
of one end dared what was undone
in the strewing, defied the mouth of the hound
that dropped it.
The whippoorwill began
again its dusk-borne mourning. I had never
seen what urgent wing disembodied
the voice, would fail to recognize its broken
shell or shadow or its feathers strewn
before me. As if afraid of forgetting,
it repeated itself, mindlessly certain.
...

Read the full of Bone

Homecoming

The camera is trained on the door, no one
in the frame, only the dog sleeping. And then
finally, I see this was to surprise you,
filming your arrival, the dog's delight. Only now,
six years distant, can this seem scripted, meant:
the long, blank minutes she waited, absent
but there — behind the lens — as though she directs
me to notice the motion of her chest
in the rise and fall of the frame, and hear

[Report Error]