Ernest Hilbert

Rookie - 237 Points (April 4th,1970 / Philadelphia)

Ernest Hilbert Poems

121. Genealogies 2/27/2018
122. Mirage 2/27/2018
123. The Pessimist Prepares For What May Well Be His Last Winter 2/27/2018
124. The Retired Literary Critic Pauses In His Sunday Reading 2/27/2018
125. White Noise 2/27/2018
126. A Few Drinks And We're All Poets 2/27/2018
127. Coil 2/27/2018
128. Domestic Situation 2/27/2018
129. Fortunate Ones 2/27/2018
130. The Singles Scene 2/27/2018
131. Prophetic Outlook 2/27/2018
132. Song 2/27/2018
133. Letter To A Godson 2/27/2018
134. At The Grave Of Thomas Eakins, Late Winter 2/27/2018
135. Biglin Brothers Racing 2/27/2018
136. Lines On The Winter Solstice 2/27/2018
137. Calavera For A Friend 2/27/2018
138. Rorschach 6/21/2006
139. The Suit 6/21/2006
140. Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus 6/21/2006
141. Disasters Of War 6/21/2006
142. The Haywain 6/21/2006
143. View Of Dordrecht 6/21/2006
144. Coronation Of Sesostris 6/21/2006
145. She Who Was The Helmet-Maker’s Beautiful Wife 6/21/2006
146. Surrender Of Breda 6/21/2006
147. Corned Beef Hash And Two Eggs Over Easy, Coffee 6/21/2006
148. Caligulan 2/26/2018
149. On The Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Of John Lennon’s Murder 6/21/2006
150. Ecstasy Of St. Teresa 6/21/2006

Comments about Ernest Hilbert

  • Lamont Palmer (12/21/2009 10:44:00 AM)

    Good critics often write some of the best poetry. Hilbert is no exception. He is a poet of great depth and verbal dexterity without being obscure beyond comprehension. Always an interesting read. -LP

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Best Poem of Ernest Hilbert

Ecstasy Of St. Teresa

I listened to Bach for eight hours
After she left into the snow,

Disappointed with my library
And choice of whiskey—

She divested my apartment
Of her hair, denuded it of form,

Her voice and beauty—
Sauntered into late skies

Past breweries that light
The city’s edge with steam,

Leaving me with bottles and my
Old skylight

And the landlord banging on my wall
“You keep quiet now. You always

“Make too much noise in there when
Girls come and leave.”

Read the full of Ecstasy Of St. Teresa

Disasters Of War

It is September, and I lunch in rain.
I do not like your city. I do not

Welcome the filling sky as I once could.
I notice nothing, however fatal,

In the foreground. I discard those ballads
Devoted to empire and disaster.

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