William Matthews Poems
|6.||Foul Shots: A Clinic||4/21/2010|
|7.||A Small Room In Aspen||4/21/2010|
|9.||A Roadside Near Ithaca||4/21/2010|
|10.||On The Porch At The Frost Place, Franconia, N. H.||1/13/2003|
|11.||Poem (The Lump Of Coal My Parents Teased)||1/13/2003|
|12.||A Happy Childhood||4/21/2010|
|13.||Mingus At The Showplace||1/13/2003|
|15.||A Life Of Crime||4/21/2010|
|17.||Homer's Seeing-Eye Dog||1/13/2003|
|20.||A Poetry Reading At West Point||1/13/2003|
A Poetry Reading At West Point
I read to the entire plebe class,
in two batches. Twice the hall filled
with bodies dressed alike, each toting
a copy of my book. What would my
shrink say, if I had one, about
such a dream, if it were a dream?
Question and answer time.
"Sir," a cadet yelled from the balcony,
and gave his name and rank, and then,
closing his parentheses, yelled
"Sir" again. "Why do your poems give
me a headache when I try
to understand them?" he asked. "Do
you want that?" I have a gift for
gentle jokes to defuse tension,
but this was not the time to use ...
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife
He would have written sonnets all his life?
DON JUAN, III, 63-4
"Where do you see yourself five years from now?"
the eldest male member (or is "male member"
a redundancy?) of the committee
asked me. "Not here," I thought. A good thing I
speak fluent Fog. I craved that job like some