The Intruder

By Frank Stanford 1948–1978 Frank Stanford

after Jean Follain

In the evenings they listen to the same

tunes nobody could call happy

somebody turns up at the edge of town

the roses bloom

and an old dinner bell rings once more

under the thunder clouds

In front of the porch posts of the store

a man seated on a soda water case

turns around and spits and says

to everybody

in his new set of clothes

holding up his hands

as long as I live nobody

touches my dogs my friends

Estate of Frank Stanford © C.D. Wright

Source: The Singing Knives (Lost Road Publishers, 1979)

Biography

Born in 1948, Stanford was a prolific poet known for his originality and ingenuity. He has been dubbed “a swamprat Rimbaud” by Lorenzo Thomas and “one of the great voices of death” by Franz Wright. He grew up in Mississippi, Tennessee, and then Arkansas, where he lived for most of his life and wrote many of his most powerful poems. He attended the University of Arkansas from 1967-9 and studied engineering while continuing to . . .

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