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Best Famous Hayden Carruth Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Hayden Carruth poems. This is a select list of the best famous Hayden Carruth poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Hayden Carruth poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of hayden carruth poems.

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Written by Hayden Carruth | Create an image from this poem

Saturday At The Border

 "Form follows function follows form .
, etc.
" --Dr.
Anthony Wadlington Here I am writing my first villanelle At seventy-two, and feeling old and tired-- "Hey, Pops, why dontcha give us the old death knell?"-- And writing it what's more on the rim of hell In blazing Arizona when all I desired Was north and solitude and not a villanelle, Working from memory and not remembering well How many stanzas and in what order, wired On Mexican coffee, seeing the death knell Of sun's salvos upon these hills that yell Bloody murder silently to the much admired Dead-blue sky.
One wonders if a villanelle Can do the job.
Granted, old men now must tell Our young world how these bigots and these retired Bankers of Arizona are ringing the death knell For everyone, how ideologies compel Children to violence.
Artifice acquired For its own sake is war.
Frail villanelle, Have you this power? And must Igo and sell Myself? "Wow," they say, and "cool"--this hired Old poetry guy with his spaced-out death knell.
Ah, far from home and God knows not much fired By thoughts of when he thought he was inspired, He writes by writing what he must.
Death knell Is what he's found in his first villanelle.
Credit: Copyright © 1995 by Hayden Carruth.
Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.

Written by Hayden Carruth | Create an image from this poem

The Curtain

 Just over the horizon a great machine of death is roaring and

One can hear it always.
Earthquake, starvation, the ever- renewing field of corpse-flesh.
In this valley the snow falls silently all day and out our window We see the curtain of it shifting and folding, hiding us away in our little house, We see earth smoothened and beautified, made like a fantasy, the snow-clad trees So graceful in a dream of peace.
In our new bed, which is big enough to seem like the north pasture almost With our two cats, Cooker and Smudgins, lying undisturbed in the southeastern and southwestern corners, We lie loving and warm, looking out from time to time.
"Snowbound," we say.
We speak of the poet Who lived with his young housekeeper long ago in the mountains of the western province, the kingdom Of complete cruelty, where heads fell like wilted flowers and snow fell for many months across the mouth Of the pass and drifted deep in the vale.
In our kitchen the maple-fire murmurs In our stove.
We eat cheese and new-made bread and jumbo Spanish olives That have been steeped in our special brine of jalapeños and garlic and dill and thyme.
We have a nip or two from the small inexpensive cognac that makes us smile and sigh.
For a while we close the immense index of images which is Our lives--for instance, the child on the Mescalero reservation in New Mexico in 1966 Sitting naked in the dirt outside his family's hut of tin and cardboard, Covered with sores, unable to speak.
But of course the child is here with us now, We cannot close the index.
How will we survive? We don't and cannot know.
Beyond the horizon a great unceasing noise is undeniable.
The machine May break through and come lurching into our valley at any moment, at any moment.
Cheers, baby.
Here's to us.
See how the curtain of snow wavers and falls back.
Credit: Copyright © 1995 by Hayden Carruth.
Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.
Written by Charles Simic | Create an image from this poem

Country Fair

 for Hayden Carruth

If you didn't see the six-legged dog,
It doesn't matter.
We did, and he mostly lay in the corner.
As for the extra legs, One got used to them quickly And thought of other things.
Like, what a cold, dark night To be out at the fair.
Then the keeper threw a stick And the dog went after it On four legs, the other two flapping behind, Which made one girl shriek with laughter.
She was drunk and so was the man Who kept kissing her neck.
The dog got the stick and looked back at us.
And that was the whole show.