Biography of Noelle Kocot
Noelle Kocot is an American poet. She is the author of six full-length collections of poetry, including the forthcoming Soul in Space (Wave Books, October 2013), The Bigger World (Wave Books, 2011) and Sunny Wednesday (Wave Books, 2009). She has also published Poet By Default (Wave Books, 2011), a limited-edition collection of translations of the poems of Tristan Corbière. Kocot has received numerous honors for her poetry, including a NEA fellowship and inclusion in The Best American Poetry anthologies for 2001 and 2012 and the 2013 edition of Postmodern American Poetry: A Norton Anthology. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York and resides in New Jersey.
Noelle Kocot Poems
Someone inside says, "Get busy." But I've got appointments to keep, I have an abstemious love of equations calculated quickly While the tepid day melts into design.
I Am Like A Desert Owl, An Owl Among The...
The alpha You. The omega You. My grandmother's ghost, its girlish snafu
On Being An Artist
Saturn seems habitual, The way it rages in the sky
The human realities of the living are now As close to me as my own—oh, see how
The Peace That So Lovingly Descends
"You" have transformed into "my loss." The nettles in your vanished hair
Love swept away the crumbs And made its exit. Over the Great fields of Horace, over the Time-ridden monkey bars of yore,
To Live Intelligently
It is always winter here, and the fear Is just a crash into being tangled. Gnarled Sister with your lucious drunkenness, We are not at the end of something. In
Reflections On Youth
The loose elements, this striving toward the Kingdom. The body is a blessing. I wait in A foothold and bury the evidence. For years A lamb strutted around on a hillside, never lonely.
Our ancestors in the earth are not Ashamed of us. The strong smell Of dirt, the delirious rabbits, the Clocks are all disappearing. A
On My Sober Anniversary
A plausible place, this sea of air. Somehow, the fragments of a later Time get pulled out of the memory.
My body is A little
On My Third Anniversary In New Jersey
It's the fern beyond the wind, the classic Eruptions. Night is a funnel that is overcome.
On Being An Artist
Saturn seems habitual,
The way it rages in the sky
When we're not looking.
On this note, the trees still sing
To me, and I long for this
Mottled world. Patterns
Of the lamplight on this leather,
The sun, listening.
My brother, my sister,