FOR ar-i-ell

ORIGINAL VIDEO: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2TT7sN5iKU



FOR ar-i-ell

ORIGINAL VIDEO: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2TT7sN5iKU

the breath               the trees               the bridge

the road                  the rain                the sheen

the breath               the line                  the skin

the vineyard            the fences             the leg

the water                the breath             the shift

the hair                  the wheels             the shoulder

the breath               the lane                the streak

the lining                the hour                the reasons

the name                the distance          the breath

the scent                the dogs                the blear

the lungs                the breath             the glove

the signal               the turn                  the need

the steps                the lights               the door

the mouth               the tongue             the eyes

the burn                  the burned            the burning

—  C. D. Wright, “Flame” from Steal Away: Selected and New Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2002)
he smiles as if but is not breathing
a moment ago he was in his chair
reading she was lighting the fire
she thought she heard a book
drop to the floor he didn’t answer
in an instant she sensed it
a tangible space across an opening
she could neither enter nor fill
as if his eye hit upon a passage
elegant and cruel and true

“Day-Old Widow Poem” by C.D. Wright

The poet C.D. Wright died in her sleep on Tuesday night at the age of 67. She was a well-known writer, a winner of a MacArthur “genius” grant and the National Book Critics Circle Award, and a longtime teacher at Brown University. 

Critic Craig Morgan Teicher says, “Wright left us not only a record of what she saw, but of her way of seeing, her slant, from which Truths will always be visible.”

‘Elegant And Cruel And True’: The Life And Death Of Poet C.D. Wright

I believe in some parallel universe
We are still together.
On my bad days, I let myself slip there.
I see our first apartment.
My books scattered in every nook and cranny
The bed we never make
The couch where we always argue over the remote
Our guitars living by the window
Walking around in your t shirt
And our dog at our feet when we’re kissing in the kitchen.

Thinking of that makes the nights pass easier.
I believe in parallel universes.

—  c.d.

When I’m angry, I miss you.
I miss you and I think:
How dare you have left me
When all of your promises said otherwise-
All your plans for the future and tomorrow-
Well now they all seem to be lies.

But then I miss you a different way
With less anger and more sorrowful melancholy.
And I know your promises were made with the best of intentions
And that you never planned to leave us.

But God,
Do I ever wish you’d been able to stay.
If even for one more day.

—  c.d.