Elizabeth Alexander Poems
|2.||Ars Poetica #100: I Believe||5/21/2016|
|3.||At the Beach||5/21/2016|
|9.||"The female seer will burn upon this pyre"||5/21/2016|
|10.||Minnesota Fats Describes His Youth||5/21/2016|
|11.||Preliminary Sketches: Philadelphia||5/21/2016|
|12.||Robeson at Rutgers||5/21/2016|
|13.||Stravinsky in L.A.||5/21/2016|
|14.||The Venus Hottentot||5/21/2016|
|19.||Praise Song For The Day||2/26/2014|
Comments about Elizabeth Alexander
I am lazy, the laziest
girl in the world. I sleep during
the day when I want to, 'til
my face is creased and swollen,
'til my lips are dry and hot. I
eat as I please: cookies and milk
after lunch, butter and sour cream
on my baked potato, foods that
slothful people eat, that turn
yellow and opaque beneath the skin.
Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday
I am still in my nightgown, the one
with the lace trim listing because
I have not mended it. Many days
I do not exercise, only
consider it, then rub my curdy
belly and lie down. Even
my poems are ...
On suffering, which is real.
On the mouth that never closes,
the air that dries the mouth.
On the miraculous dying body,
its greens and purples.
On the beauty of hair itself.
On the dazzling toddler:
"Like eggplant," he says,
when you say "Vegetable,"