John Koethe

(1945 / San Diego)

John Koethe Poems

1. A Perfume 1/20/2003
2. Creation Myths 5/26/2015
3. What The Stars Meant 12/24/2015
4. Below the Coast 12/26/2016
5. Book X 12/26/2016
6. The Constant Voice 12/26/2016
7. Domes 12/26/2016
8. Early Morning in Milwaukee 12/26/2016
9. Falling Water 12/26/2016
10. In the Park 12/26/2016
11. The Late Wisconsin Spring 12/26/2016
12. Like Gods 12/26/2016
13. Ninety-Fifth Street 12/26/2016
14. North Point North 12/26/2016
15. The Perfect Life 12/26/2016
16. Picture of Little Letters 12/26/2016
17. A Private Singularity 12/26/2016
18. The Proximate Shore 12/26/2016
19. Venetian Coda 12/26/2016
20. Vicarious Melancholia 12/26/2016
21. E.H. 12/26/2016
22. The Bean House 12/26/2016
23. This is Lagos 12/26/2016
24. Chester 12/26/2016
25. Fear of the Future 12/26/2016
26. The Yacht Clubs 12/26/2016
27. Sally's Hair 12/26/2016
28. Hackett Avenue 12/26/2016
29. Clouds 12/26/2016
30. From the Porch 12/26/2016
31. Y2K (1933) 12/26/2016
32. Un Autre Monde 12/26/2016
33. Partial Clearance 12/26/2016
34. Gil's Cafe 12/26/2016
35. In Italy - 1. Hotel Solferino for Henri Cole 12/26/2016
36. In Italy - 2. Expulsion from the Garden 12/26/2016
37. In Italy - 3. Duomo 12/26/2016
Best Poem of John Koethe

Creation Myths

Some have the grandeur of architecture,
The grandeur of the concert hall: the sentimental
Grandeur of an idea lying just beyond recall
In someone's imagination, compelled by an even
Greater music at its most monumental,
That begins with the explosion of a drum
In chaos and the dark, the twin wellsprings of a world
That slowly comes to lie before them—a natural
One, apparently designed for them alone,
That somehow lifts them in the end, a woman and a man,
To Paradise and the certainty of God.

It's lovely to believe—lovely, anyway, to hear.
The chaos is...

Read the full of Creation Myths

Book X

In the last book of The Republic Plato turns to poetry, implicitly contrasts it with philosophy, and argues that it shouldn't even exist in the ideal city he's meticulously constructed. His reasoning is liable to strike us now as quaint: poets traffic in appearances, not essences, and write of things they don't know anything about, like military st

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