Stephen Dunn Poems
|1.||At The Smithville Methodist Church||7/23/2015|
|4.||Allegory of the Cave||9/18/2015|
|5.||Always Something More Beautiful||12/1/2015|
|6.||Essay On The Personal||6/1/2016|
|8.||Mrs. Cavendish and the Dancer||1/5/2018|
|11.||Dismantling the House||1/5/2018|
|12.||In Love, His Grammar Grew||1/5/2018|
|13.||Mary Shelley in Brigantine||1/5/2018|
|17.||The Snowmass Cycle||1/5/2018|
|19.||Charlotte Bronte in Leeds Point||6/2/2015|
|20.||What Goes On||6/8/2015|
|21.||The Metaphysicians Of South Jersey||12/21/2015|
|22.||To A Terrorist||2/13/2015|
|23.||Here And Now||12/1/2014|
|24.||The Routine Things Around The House||12/17/2014|
Comments about Stephen Dunn
How many years I must have yearned
for someone's lips against mind.
Pheromones, newly born, were floating
between us. There was hardly any air.
She kissed me again, reaching that place
that sends messages to toes and fingertips,
then all the way to something like home.
Some music was playing on its own.
Nothing like a woman who knows
to kiss the right thing at the right time,
then kisses the things she's missed.
How had I ever settled for less?
I was thinking this is intelligence,
this is the wisest tongue
since the Oracle got into a ...
Here And Now
There are words
I've had to save myself from,
like My Lord and Blessed Mother,
words I said and never meant,
though I admit a part of me misses
the ornamental stateliness
of High Mass, that smell