The visionary moment comes
just as it is raining , just as bombs
are falling, just as atoms
burst like a sneeze in a city park
and enter the dark
as if it were the waiting ark.
You open your hand and blow
the dust. You pick and throw
the stone. You make the round O
of your mouth perfect as light
and the tree bends and stands upright
in the stolid night.
Source: Poetry (February 2008).
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This poem originally appeared in the February 2008 issue of Poetry magazine
George Szirtes was born in Hungary and emigrated to England with his parents—survivors of concentration and labor camps—after the 1956 Budapest uprising.
Szirtes studied painting at Harrow School of Art and Leeds College of Art and Design. At Leeds he studied with Martin Bell, who encouraged Szirtes as he began to develop his poetic themes: an engaging mix of British individualism and European fluency in myth, fairy tale, and . . .
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