Joyce Sutphen Poems
|2.||Just For The Record||8/27/2014|
|5.||A Kind Of Villanelle||8/27/2014|
|10.||At The Moment||8/27/2014|
|12.||How To Listen||8/27/2014|
|14.||Older, Younger, Both||8/27/2014|
|16.||Living In The Body||8/27/2014|
|17.||Naming The Stars||1/13/2003|
Comments about Joyce Sutphen
The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.
The second half of my life will be swift, ...
At The Moment
Suddenly, I stopped thinking about Love,
after so many years of only that,
after thinking that nothing else mattered.
And what was I thinking of when I stopped
thinking about Love? Death, of course—what else
could take Love's place? What else could hold such force?
I thought about how far away Death once