The Caterpiller & Black Holes + R.I.P Mark Strand
Untitled photo collage by Fung Lin Hall
Mark Strand dies – Pulitzer winning poet laureate ..( Born in Prince Edward’s Islands, Canada, initially he studied art.)
The Remains
I empty myself of the names of others. I empty my pockets.
I empty my shoes and leave them beside the road.
At night I turn back the clocks;
I open the family album and look at myself as a boy.What good does it do? The hours have done their job.
I say my own name. I say goodbye.
The words follow each other downwind.
I love my wife but send her away.My parents rise out of their thrones
into the milky rooms of clouds. How can I sing?
Time tells me what I am. I change and I am the same.
I empty myself of my life and my life remains.Mark Stand
Read his poem “The End” (poetry foundation)
Wallace Shawn interviewed Mark Strand (Paris Review)
EATING POETRY
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
Mark Strand
(Jim Bauerlein’s favorite poem thanks..)
The Caterpiller and Black holes (photo collage by Fung Lin Hall)
Lines for Winter
Mark Strand
1934 – 2014
for Ros Krauss
Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.
Mark Strand