Russell Edson

(1935 - 2014 / Connecticut, United States)

Russell Edson Poems

1. The Position 1/13/2003
2. The Closet 1/13/2003
3. The Bridge 1/13/2003
4. The Changeling 1/13/2003
5. The Lighted Window 1/13/2003
6. The Death Of A Fly 1/13/2003
7. The Rat's Tight Schedule 1/13/2003
8. The Man Rock 1/13/2003
9. The Road 1/13/2003
10. The Breast 1/13/2003
11. Grass 1/13/2003
12. The Wounded Breakfast 1/13/2003
13. Erasing Amyloo 1/13/2003
14. The Gentlemen In The Meadow 1/13/2003
15. The Ox 1/13/2003
16. The Theory 1/13/2003
17. The Pattern 1/13/2003
18. The Alfresco Moment 1/13/2003
19. The Tree 1/13/2003
20. The Autopsy 1/13/2003
21. The Father Of Toads 1/13/2003
22. You 1/13/2003
23. The Having To Love Something Else 1/13/2003
24. The Sad Message 1/13/2003
25. The Melting 1/13/2003
26. The Reason Why The Closet-Man Is Never Sad 1/13/2003
27. Hands 1/13/2003
28. Mr. Brain 1/13/2003
29. Paying The Captain 1/13/2003
30. The Marionettes Of Distant Masters 1/13/2003
31. Conjugal 1/13/2003
32. Soup Song 1/13/2003
33. The Family Monkey 1/13/2003
34. Angels 1/13/2003
35. Elephant Dormitory 1/13/2003
36. The Toy-Maker 1/13/2003
37. The Philosophers 1/13/2003
38. A Historical Breakfast 1/13/2003
39. Vomit 1/13/2003
40. A Performance At Hog Theater 1/13/2003

Comments about Russell Edson

  • Chris Bowen (1/27/2008 11:17:00 AM)

    i like russell edson prose sometimes, does he visit this site?

    16 person liked.
    27 person did not like.
Best Poem of Russell Edson

Ape

You haven't finished your ape, said mother to father,
who had monkey hair and blood on his whiskers.

I've had enough monkey, cried father.

You didn't eat the hands, and I went to all the
trouble to make onion rings for its fingers, said mother.

I'll just nibble on its forehead, and then I've had enough,
said father.

I stuffed its nose with garlic, just like you like it, said
mother.

Why don't you have the butcher cut these apes up? You lay
the whole thing on the table every night; the same fractured
skull, the same singed ...

Read the full of Ape

One Lonely Afternoon

Since the fern can't go to the sink for a drink of
water, I graciously submit myself to the task, bringing two
glasses from the sink.
And so we sit, the fern and I, sipping water together.


Of course I'm more complex than a fern, full of deep
thoughts as I am. But I lay this aside for the easy company
of an afternoon friendship.

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