William Simone Di Piero
Biography of William Simone Di Piero
William Simone Di Piero (born 1945 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) is an American poet, translator, essayist, and educator. He has published ten collections of poetry and five collections of essays in addition to his translations. In 2012 Di Piero received the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize for his lifetime achievement; in making the award, Christian Wiman noted, "He’s a great poet whose work is just beginning to get the wide audience it deserves."
He grew up in an Italian working-class neighborhood, attended St. Joseph's College in Philadelphia and received a Master's degree from San Francisco State University in 1971.
He taught at Louisiana State University, and Northwestern University. In 1982, he joined Stanford University. He is an Art Critic, and curated a photography exhibit of Jonathan Elderfield.
His work appeared in AGNI, Ploughshares, and Triquarterly.
He lives in San Francisco.
William Simone Di Piero Poems
Chicago And December
Trying to find my roost one lidded, late afternoon, the consolation of color
She visits still too much, dressed in aromas of fir needles, mango, mold: I still get lost knowing she's close, me not getting younger or more conscious. Sometimes I fantasticate
My aunts mentioned her just once, calling her my aunt, their sister, though she wasn't. They mentioned the vinyl recliner in the kitchen,
A Lowrider Loudly Brings Us
a thing that's called radar love, the whole hog calling, and here's unhoused Ginger, distracted wind-beaten beauty
Johnny One Note
Bobby Hutcherson in Oakland The mallet strikes but something's off, and so he hits again, curling that lower lip, purses his brow, as if this sign, this minor woe,
It's That Time
The silence of night hours is never really silent. You hear the air, even when it doesn't stir.
Injun Joe as an Avatar
The poetry's arrested in his scene, which can't be trusted, because I saw it through painkillers that softened my head, after I'd asked him what Keats really meant:
Ice Plant in Bloom
From where I stood at the field's immaculate edge, walking past the open patch of land that's money bounded, in California's flat sunlight, by suburban shadows of houses occupied by professors, lawyers, radically affluent do-gooders,
Having My Cards Read
Hobos wail a garbage can against the cyclone links. The monkey puzzle tree droops its scaly tails above our heads as she sets up near the zoo's bonobos,
The Green Man
rumdumb from last night's shrubbery tryst exhales soot, fernseed, shoots and vines, brings his hot breath from the city park's wood, saying a song we don't understand
Girl with Pearl Earring by Johannes Verm...
He put the spirit essence the light pip not only in each eye's albumen concentrate of starlight
Brother Francis to Brother Leone
In my dream I watched it from a windowsill Come see this raptor's shadow hushed down green-brick tenements
Big City Speech
Use me Abuse me Turn wheels of ﬁre on manhole hotheads
The Ash Bringer
A grainy predawn dark, early Expressway traffic bleeding arterial tail lights across gray water and its blue heart. Under Lemon Hill, grunts from Boathouse Row, woodshop clunks,
The Ash Bringer
A grainy predawn dark, early Expressway traffic
bleeding arterial tail lights across gray water
and its blue heart. Under Lemon Hill,
grunts from Boathouse Row, woodshop clunks,
young men's voices too loud for a day
exhaling into starless skies, bad boys
after keg night, hungover, push long sculls
into the water and slice its marcelled run,
a marbled peacock wake behind each stroke