James Marcus Schuyler Poems

Books litter the bed,
leaves the lawn. It
lightly rains. Fall has
come: unpatterned, in
...

beside me in this garden
are huge and daisy-like
(why not? are not
oxeye daisies a chrysanthemum?),
...

On a day like this the rain comes
down in fat and random drops among
the ailanthus leaves---"the tree
of Heaven"---the leaves that on moon-
...

Past is past, and if one
remembers what one meant
to do and never did, is
not to have thought to do
...

A nothing day full of
wild beauty and the
timer pings. Roll up
the silver off the bay
...

The mint bed is in
bloom: lavender haze
day. The grass is
more than green and
...

The morning sky is clouding up
and what is that tree,
dressed up in white? The fruit
tree, French pear. Sulphur-
...

There is a hornet in the room
and one of us will have to go
out the window into the late
August midafternoon sun. I
...

And is it stamina
that unseasonably freaks
forth a bluet, a
Quaker lady, by
...

The day gets slowly started.
A rap at the bedroom door,
bitter coffee, hot cereal, juice
the color of sun which
...