Sunday, April 05, 2009

Rae Armantrout

by Rae Armantrout

The ghosts swarm.
They speak as one
person. Each
loves you. Each
has left something

Did the palo verde
blush yellow
all at once?

Today's edges
are so sharp

they might cut
anything that moved.

The way a lost

will come back

You're not interested
in it now,

in knowing
where it's been.

The third Poetry Month daily poem from Not bad, two out of three that grab me. (Last year, I think it was two or three in the entire month.) According to's write-up on Rae Armantrout,

In the preface to her selected poems, Veil, Ron Silliman describes her work as: "the literature of the anti-lyric, those poems that at first glance appear contained and perhaps even simple, but which upon the slightest examination rapidly provoke a sort of vertigo effect as element after element begins to spin wildly toward more radical...possibilities."

This poem exemplifies those remarks.

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