Gary Whitehead Poems
- A Used Book When I open its pages my dog stirs from his ...
- Full Of Blood, And Irrelevant If memory had fingers, it would...
- A Glossary Of Chickens There should be a word for the ...
- The Garden In the garden of the mind the best thought will ...
- A Cold House I wake now to a house as cold as your side of ...
- Tumbleweeds Rolling nests of the prairie, prickered and ...
- Mouse In The House For two nights now it's wakened me from ...
Gary Joseph Whitehead is an American poet, painter, and cruciverbalist. He is the author of Measuring Cubits while the Thunder Claps (David Robert Books, 2008), The Velocity of Dust (Salmon/Dufour Editions, 2004), After the Drowning (Finishing Line Press), A Cool, Dry Place (White Eagle Coffee Store Press), and Walking Back to Providence (Sow's Ear Press). His work has appeared worldwide in journals, magazines and newspapers and most notably in The New Yorker and Poetry.
His awards include a New York Foundation for the Arts Individual Artist Fellowship in Poetry, two Galway Kinnell Poetry Prizes, a Pearl Hogrefe Fellowship at Iowa State University, and a Princeton University ... more »
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A Used Book
When I open its pages my dog stirs
from his repose on the couch beside me
to sniff at the spine and trim. His gray ears
lift to listen, and I hear what he hears:
traffic horns, a teapot's whistle, the purrs
of the reader's cats on her old settee.
What was she doing reading such heady
stuff so early on a Saturday—sun
not yet risen, her lover still asleep?
The book, I guess, her company to keep,
and the cats, while the light kept its steady
course across her floor. Paris or London,
I imagine, though it was probably
San Francisco, a streetcar passing...