Patricia Goedicke Poems
- Without Looking Either at my friend's ...
- You Could Pick It Up You could pick it up by the loose flap ...
- The Tongues We Speak I have arrived here after taking many ...
- The Reading Club Is dead serious about this one, having ...
- In These Soft Trinities Whenever I see two women ...
- The Hills in Half Light Or will we be lost forever? In ...
- Danger of Falling The way calcium grows all by itself ...
Patricia Goedicke (June 21, 1931 – July 14, 2006) was an American poet.
Born Patricia McKenna in Boston, Massachusetts, she grew up in Hanover, New Hampshire, where her father was a resident psychiatrist at Dartmouth College. During her high school years she was an accomplished downhill skier. She earned her B.A. at Middlebury College in 1953, where she studied with Robert Frost. She also studied under W. H. Auden at Young Men's Hebrew Association of New York City in 1955.
She married in 1956 Victor Goedicke, a professor at Ohio University, where in 1965 she completed her M.A. in creative writing and poetry. She divorced in 1968, the same year that while an artist in ... more »
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Comments about Patricia Goedicke
Either at my friend's daughter's
sixteen-year-old body dumped
on the morgue slab, T-shirt
stuck fast to one ripped
breast I identified quick, and then
got out of there
or at the old gentleman
with tubes in the living room, spittle
stained in his wispy
beard, out of
the corner of my eye I hardly
notice it, how
could I, drink in hand
at five-thirty, at the least
sign of pain one of us always itches
to turn away, another turns
over in sleep, groans
O, we who are so lucky
just to be able to
ignore, go back
quick, to our ...