The Gardener, a great piece in the New Yorker about Stanley Kunitz and the generations of poets he nurtured. “All I want to do is write poems, and think about the garden, and be in the garden.”
Poem white page white page poem
something is streaming out of a body in waves
something is beginning from the fingertips
they are starting to declare for my whole life
all the despair and making music
something like wave after wave
that breaks on a beach
something like bringing the entire life
to this moment
the small waves bringing themselves to white paper
something like light stands up and is alive.
