Norman Dubie Poems
- February: The Boy Breughel The birches stand in their ...
- The Czar's Last Christmas Lett...
- Of Politics, & Art for Allen Here, on the farthest point...
- Her Monologue Of Dark Crepe Wi...
- For Transtromer In the cold heavy rain, through its poor ...
- South Boston Morning Very pragmatic closets of falling ...
- Behind The Old Soldiers' Hospi... Steam banks chugging out ...
Norman Dubie (born April 10, 1945 Barre, Vermont) is an American poet.
He is the author of more than eighteen books, often assuming historical personae in his works. Dubie's poetry has been included in The New Yorker, Ploughshares, The Paris Review, FIELD, and Blackbird, an online journal of literature and the arts.
A recipient of numerous fellowships (including the National Endowment for the Arts and the Ingram Merrill Foundation) and awards, Dubie is a graduate of Goddard College and the Iowa Writer's Workshop. He teaches in the graduate Creative Writing Program at Arizona State University, in Tempe AZ, where he is Regents Professor of English.
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February: The Boy Breughel
The birches stand in their beggar's row:
Each poor tree
Has had its wrists nearly
Torn from the clear sleeves of bone,
These icy trees
Are hanging by their thumbs
Under a sun
That will begin to heal them soon,
Each will climb out
Of its own blue, oval mouth;
The river groans,
Two birds call out from the woods
And a fox crosses through snow
Down a hill; then, he runs,
He has overcome something white
Beside a white bush, he shakes
It twice, and as he turns
For the woods, the blood in the snow
Looks like the red fox,
At a distance,...