Taylor Graham

Rookie (Pasadena, CA)

Taylor Graham Poems

1. Jacaranda 8/23/2010
2. Eighty-Eight And Counting 8/23/2010
3. Death The Linguist 8/23/2010
4. Divorce Quilt 8/23/2010
5. Hollywood & Vine 8/23/2010
6. Waking In The Middle Of The Night 8/23/2010
7. Slow Dancing 8/23/2010
8. Living With Wild 8/23/2010
9. Bear-Hunger 8/23/2010
10. Between The Notes 8/23/2010
11. October, Spirits 8/23/2010
12. Lies Of The Visible 8/23/2010
13. Power 8/23/2010
14. Rainbow Effect 8/23/2010
15. Seduction 8/24/2010
16. Grandma Dawson's Girls 8/24/2010
17. In Her Sleep 8/24/2010
18. Sleeping With The Mockingbird 8/24/2010
19. A House Built Into Trees 8/24/2010
20. The Angels Of Earth-Sleeping 8/24/2010
21. Seeing Fox 8/24/2010
22. Truck Stop 8/24/2010
23. Before He Lays Himself To Sleep 8/24/2010
24. He Was Wearing A Yellow T-Shirt 8/24/2010
25. Tequila On The Richter Scale 8/24/2010
26. Ten Hours At The Forge 8/12/2010
27. A Ship Goes Aground Off Nantucket 8/12/2010
28. To Fire The Forge 8/21/2010
29. Kingsnake 8/23/2010
30. This Ark 8/23/2010
31. Chances 8/24/2010
32. The Tooth Fairy 8/23/2010
33. Unpacking Mother's Things 8/24/2010
34. Listening Post 8/23/2010
35. Hiking Old Dog To The Alpine Lake 8/24/2010

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Best Poem of Taylor Graham

Listening Post

Between a mossy outcrop
and a bedrock mortar.
I watch a neighbor’s wood-smoke rise
toward the contrail
of a transcontinental flight.

Two overwintered bluebirds
peck berries from the mistletoe of a dying oak
whose roots dig into frost-heave,
decomposing granite re-composing
tree and shadow.

Atop a boulder, a squirrel has eaten
half a mushroom-cap and left the rest.
Coyote scat is full of manzanita berries
and fur, fragments of bone: what’s
left of gray squirrel.

I imagine I could hear the earth turn
its worms through soil, or ...

Read the full of Listening Post

Ten Hours At The Forge

Elihu Burritt’s journal, June 19,1838

And then, by lantern light you read
'Sixty lines Hebrew, thirty pages French, '
its phrases springing from the page as fluently
as the river Seine you’ve yet to see;
'ten pages Cuvier’s Theory; eight lines
Syriac' – and who besides yourself
in this township, or the state, to understand?

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