Stephen Dunn Poems
|1.||Charlotte Bronte in Leeds Point||6/2/2015|
|2.||At The Smithville Methodist Church||7/23/2015|
|3.||Essay On The Personal||6/1/2016|
|5.||Mrs. Cavendish and the Dancer||1/5/2018|
|8.||Dismantling the House||1/5/2018|
|9.||In Love, His Grammar Grew||1/5/2018|
|10.||Mary Shelley in Brigantine||1/5/2018|
|14.||The Snowmass Cycle||1/5/2018|
|17.||Allegory of the Cave||9/18/2015|
|18.||Always Something More Beautiful||12/1/2015|
|19.||The Metaphysicians Of South Jersey||12/21/2015|
|20.||What Goes On||6/8/2015|
|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 ...
To A Terrorist
For the historical ache, the ache passed down
which finds its circumstance and becomes
the present ache, I offer this poem
without hope, knowing there's nothing,
not even revenge, which alleviates
a life like yours. I offer it as one
might offer his father's ashes