Galway Kinnell Poems
|1.||The Stone Table||10/13/2015|
|3.||The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye To His Poetry Students||11/27/2014|
|4.||The Man Splitting Wood In The Daybreak||4/3/2012|
|5.||The Still Time||2/19/2015|
|7.||Another Night In Ruins||4/3/2012|
|9.||Flower Herding On Mount Monadnock||4/3/2012|
|15.||Telephoning In Mexican Sunlight||1/13/2003|
|17.||Vapor Train Reflected In The Frog Pond||1/20/2003|
|18.||Little Sleep's-Head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight||1/13/2003|
|19.||How Could You Not||1/13/2003|
|20.||Poem Of Night||1/13/2003|
|22.||St. Francis And The Sow||1/13/2003|
|25.||After Making Love We Hear Footsteps||1/13/2003|
Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness...
There is a fork in a branch
of an ancient, enormous maple,
one of a grove of such trees,
where I climb sometimes and sit and look out
over miles of valleys and low hills.
Today on skis I took a friend
to show her the trees. We set out
down the road, turned in at
the lane which a few weeks ago,