Late August was a pressure drop,
rain, a sob in the body,
a handful of air
with a dream in it,
summer was desperate
to paradise itself with blackberry
drupelets and swarms, everything
polychromed, glazed, sprinkler caps
gushing, the stars like sweat
on a boxer's skin. A voice
from the day says
Tax cuts
for the rich or scratch
what itches or it's a sax
from Bitches Brew,
and I'm a fool
for these horns
and hues, this maudlin
light. It's a currency of feeling
in unremembered March.
There's a war on and snow in the
city
where we've made our desire stop
and start. In the dying school of Bruce
I'm the student who still believes
in the bad taste of the beautiful
and the sadness of songs
made in the ratio
of bruise for bruise.
Source: Poetry (April 2004).
Originally from Philadelphia, Bruce Smith is the author of several books of poems, including The Other Lover (2000), a finalist for both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Influenced by Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson, Smith’s poetry moves like jazz, incorporating images and narratives into a startling, musically unified whole. In a 2007 interview, Smith explained his poetry’s aspiration to song: “When the language . . .
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Poem Categorization
SUBJECT
Nature,
Music,
Arts & Sciences,
Summer
POET’S REGION
U.S., New England
Poetic Terms
Alliteration,
Imagery,
Allusion,
Assonance,
Consonance,
Couplet
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