Russell Edson

(1935 - 2014 / Connecticut, United States)


Poem by Russell Edson

There was a road that leads him to go to find
a certain time where he sits.

Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged
table wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly

Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone.

The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep.

And then he looked for himself and even he was gone.

Looked for the road and even that . . .

Comments about Hands by Russell Edson

  • Susan WilliamsSusan Williams (2/3/2016 3:35:00 PM)

    This poet is hands down the most unique one I have read on this site.... he has a certain allure... like to see what he will write next...(Report)Reply

    15 person liked.
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  • Goldy Locks (6/18/2007 4:46:00 PM)

    even that.. what? disintegrated? ? sexi writing. Absorbing, melting. glossy, cool, and gripping. like a firm [hand]shake. best care, sjg(Report)Reply

    0 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: sleep, time

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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