Lisel Mueller Poems
|1.||Paul Delvaux: The Village of the Mermaids||9/30/2015|
|2.||Sometimes, When the Light||4/30/2015|
|3.||Reasons for Numbers||6/22/2015|
|4.||The End of Science Fiction||6/23/2015|
|6.||Five For Country Music||1/13/2003|
|9.||For A Thirteenth Birthday||1/13/2003|
|11.||A Day Like Any Other||1/13/2003|
|12.||Reading The Brothers Grimm To Jenny||1/13/2003|
|13.||Why We Tell Stories||1/13/2003|
|18.||The Laughter Of Women||1/13/2003|
|19.||What The Dog Perhaps Hears||1/13/2003|
|20.||Monet Refuses The Operation||1/13/2003|
Comments about Lisel Mueller
When the moon was full they came to the water.
some with pitchforks, some with rakes,
some with sieves and ladles,
and one with a silver cup.
And they fished til a traveler passed them and said,
to catch the moon you must let your women
spread their hair on the water --
even the wily moon will leap to that bobbing
net of shimmering threads,
gasp and flop till its silver scales
lie black and still at your feet."
And they fished with the hair of their women
till a traveler passed them and said,
do you think the moon is caught ...
For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses."
Someone was always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses wait like old wives
along this road; they are everywhere,
abandoned, leaning, turning gray.