David Ferry Poems
|1.||That Evening At Dinner||1/20/2003|
|2.||In the Reading Room||6/19/2015|
|4.||From Gilgamesh: Tablet 1||11/21/2014|
|5.||The Guest Ellen At The Supper For Street People||2/10/2015|
|6.||Learning From History||3/17/2015|
Saturday afternoon. The barracks is almost empty.
The soldiers are almost all on overnight pass.
There is only me, writing this letter to you,
And one other soldier, down at the end of the room,
And a spider, that hangs by the thread of his guts,
His tenacious and delicate guts, Swift's spider,
All self-regard, or else all privacy.
The dust drifts in the sunlight around him, as currents
Lie in lazy, drifting schools in the vast sea.
In his little sea the spider lowers himself
Out of his depth. He is his own diving bell,
Though he cannot see well. He observes no...