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âDecember 9thâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 9th Two years ago, Reservist, you would have burned your draft card or else have gone A.W.O.L. But you stayed to serve the Air Force. Your head churned with bad solutions, carrying…
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âDecember 8thâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 8th In winter without you I senda Florida postcard to myselfto somehow remind me of the weekafter mid-July and towards the endwhen scummy Dog Days were on the shelfand we had a…
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âDecember 7thâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 7th Pearl Harbor Day. The cruciform. No rain last night, but an icestorm. Jewels! Today each twig is important, each ring, each infection, each form is all that the gods must have…
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âDecember 6thâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 6th A light rain, as tranquil as an apple, today⌠mild and supple and fat and full-blown sweet like the last February 2nd on Groundhog Day. He wouldnât come out and we…
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âDecember 5thâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 5th That was Oswaldâs November four long years ago. I remember meeting secretly once a week or oftener, know it wrong, but having those reasons. So I commute to your studio, my…
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âDecember 4ndâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 4nd And where did we meet? Was it in London on Carnaby Street? Was it in Paris on the Left Bank? That there that I can thank? No. It was Harvard Square…
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âDecember 3rdâ – Anne Sexton
December 3rd This is the mole- gray mouth of the year. Yesterday I stole out to your hunterâs cabin studio, surprising two woodchucks and a deer outside our makeshift bungalow. On the way…
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âDecember 2ndâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
December 2nd I slept last night under a birdâs shadow dreaming of nuthatches at the feeder, jailed to its spine, jailed right down to the toes, waiting for slow death in the hateful…
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âDecember 1stâ – Anne Sexton | L’Altrove
1 dicembre Quando ci siamo baciati addio hai fatto un po’ di cipiglio. Ora le luci di Cristo stanno scintillando in tutta la cittĂ . I gambi di mais sono spezzati nel campo, spezzati…
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Appunti di poesia: John Berryman | L’Altrove
3. miti mi guardano i tuoi occhi. Di grano ed ariaè fatto il tuo corpo, muove. Lo evoco, vedi,dâoltre i secoli.Penso non resterai. Come indugiamo,sminuiti, nellâaria fra chi ci ama, implausibilmentevisibili, per chi,…
