Sam Hamill Poems
|1.||The Orchid Flower||6/2/2015|
|3.||The New York Poem||12/20/2016|
|4.||Homeland Security after Borges||12/20/2016|
|5.||On the Death of James Oscco Annamaría||12/20/2016|
|6.||On the Third Anniversary of the Ongoing War in Iraq a letter to Hayden Carruth||12/20/2016|
|7.||State of the Union, 2003||12/20/2016|
|8.||What the Water Knows||12/20/2016|
|9.||Eyes Wide Open Rattle ‘05||12/20/2016|
Comments about Sam Hamill
Half broken on that smoky night,
hunched over sake in a serviceman's dive
somewhere in Naha, Okinawa,
nearly fifty years ago,
I read of the Saigon Buddhist monks
who stopped the traffic on a downtown
so their master, Thich Quang Dúc, could take up
the lotus posture in the middle of the street.
And they baptized him there with gas
and kerosene, and he struck a match
and burst into flame.
That was June, nineteen-sixty-three,
and I was twenty, a U.S. Marine.
The master did not move, did not squirm,
he did not scream
in pain ...