This blog contains 1000 posts. Posting to Blogger with such a large archive has become unwieldy. Also, your blogista, who is sewing a kesa, is not writing much at present. She has ceased adding new posts. Still-active links are here.

Saturday, January 15, 2000

William Stafford

william stafford

Here was a man who was known
as an Oregon poet.
He never wasted words, either.
He wrote a poem

Every day, rain or shine, and so
he had some
rain poems and some shine poems
and if people

came to him saying, sir, give us a book
he would turn
and rummage in desk drawers
or grope

along shelves in the kitchen.
Pretty soon
there was their book, bright as
Sunday morning

but sharp, too, like bottle glass.
He'd hand
it to them carefully, carefully.
And it was

their hint. After that they'd have to
look out for themselves,
and that, I guess, was his Oregon


Related Posts with Thumbnails