Erica Jong

(26 March 1942 / New York City)

Erica Jong Poems

41. Sexual Soup 3/28/2012
42. The Sheets 3/28/2012
43. Self-Portrait 3/28/2012
44. On The Avenue 3/28/2012
45. On The First Night 3/28/2012
46. My Death 3/28/2012
47. Near The Black Forest 3/28/2012
48. Letter To Myselves 3/28/2012
49. I Try To Keep 3/28/2012
50. The Death Of Goddesses 3/28/2012
51. If God Is A Dog 3/28/2012
52. Eveningsong At Bellosguardo 3/28/2012
53. Flight To Catalina 3/28/2012
54. For Molly, Concerning God 3/28/2012
55. Gardener 3/28/2012
56. Egyptology 3/28/2012
57. Driving Me Away 3/28/2012
58. The Catch 3/28/2012
59. Dear Keats 3/28/2012
60. Venice, November, 1966 3/28/2012
61. Walking Through The Upper East Side 3/28/2012
62. You Hate The Telephone 3/28/2012
63. Zen & The Art Of Poetry 3/28/2012
64. There is a white wood house near Hampstead Heath 3/28/2012
65. Without Parachutes 3/28/2012
66. The Truce Between The Sexes 3/28/2012
67. Unrequited 3/28/2012
68. The Birth Of The Water Baby 3/28/2012
69. Empty 3/28/2012
70. The Bed Of The World 3/28/2012
71. The Heart, The Child, The World 3/28/2012
72. His Tuning Of The Night 3/28/2012
73. Paper Chains 3/28/2012
74. Still Life With Tulips 3/28/2012
75. Sleep 3/28/2012
76. To A Transatlantic Mirror 3/28/2012
77. Dear Anne Sexton 3/28/2012
78. For Molly 3/28/2012
79. Depression In Early Spring 3/28/2012
80. Pane Caldo 3/28/2012
Best Poem of Erica Jong

After The Earthquake

After the first astounding rush,
after the weeks at the lake,
the crystal, the clouds, the water lapping the rocks,
the snow breaking under our boots like skin,
& the long mornings in bed. . .

After the tangos in the kitchen,
& our eyes fixed on each other at dinner,
as if we would eat with our lids,
as if we would swallow each other. . .

I find you still
here beside me in bed,
(while my pen scratches the pad
& your skin glows as you read)
& my whole life so mellowed & changed

that at times I cannot remember
the crimp in my heart that ...

Read the full of After The Earthquake

We Learned

The decorum of fire...
-- Pablo Neruda

We learned the decorum of fire,
the flame's curious symmetry,
the blue heat at the center of the thighs,
the flickering red of the hips,
& the tallow gold of the breasts
lit from within

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