A month of poets: today, Franz Wright
In celebration of National Poetry Month, I’ll feature a poem here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in April. Any reflections on today’s selection?
“Arkansas First Snow”
from God’s Silence by Franz WrightWhat happens to me is not very important
(correction: not at all important)
but I will be sad never againrather, it will be sad
never again
to read Blake’s “The Sunflower,” or Emily Dickinson’s“my departing blossoms . . . ,”
or to see your face.
I would like to go on doing that for some decadesand quietly studying the correspondences
of inner/outer worlds,
though I know they are one and the same now:that emerald light shining far off in the distance
this afternoon as I was passing through
the empty park, snow beginning in earnest—
it can snow here!—I want to find out what it means;I want to and I don’t. I want to know
and I want the mystery,
                   bothbut I doubt there will be enough time
it’s so far and so lovely from here.
Farther than ever.
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