Tag Archives: jane hirshfield

Three Passover poems shared by three friends

On the second night of Passover, three Passover poems shared by friends: The first by Jane Hirshfield: xxxx In a Room with Five People, Six Griefs In a room with five people, six griefs. Some you will hear of, some not. … Continue reading

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“Fado” by Jane Hirshfield

A man reaches close and lifts a quarter from inside a girl’s ear, from her hands takes a dove she didn’t know was there. Which amazes more, you may wonder: the quarter’s serrated murmur against the thumb or the dove’s … Continue reading

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Vermont Wedding

Today my sister and her partner of almost 19 years got married on a warm, sunny, and windy afternoon in Vermont. xxx A Blessing for Wedding xxxx Today when persimmons ripen Today when fox-kits come out of their den into … Continue reading

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“The Envoy” by Jane Hirshfield

One day in that room, a small rat. Two days later, a snake. Who, seeing me enter, whipped the long stripe of his body under the bed, then curled like a docile house-pet.x I don’t know how either came or … Continue reading

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“Tree” by Jane Hirshfield

It is foolish to let a young redwood grow next to a house. xxx Even in this one lifetime, you will have to choose. xxx That great calm being, this clutter of soup pots and books – xxx Already the … Continue reading

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“Meeting the Light Completely” by Jane Hirshfield

Even the long-beloved was once an unrecognized stranger. Just so, the chipped lip of a blue-glazed cup, blown field of a yellow curtain, might also, flooding and falling, ruin your heart. A table painted with roses. An empty clothesline. Each … Continue reading

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“The Lives of the Heart” by Jane Hirshfield

Are ligneous, muscular, chemical. Wear birch-colored feathers, green tunnels of horse-tail reed. Wear calcified spirals, Fibonaccian spheres. Are edible; are glassy; are clay; blue schist. Can be burned as tallow, as coal, can be skinned for garnets, for shoes. Cast … Continue reading

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“Happiness is harder” by Jane Hirshfield

To read a book of poetry from back to front, there is a cure for certain kinds of sadness. A person has only to choose. What doesn’t matter; just that— This coffee. That dress. “Here is the time I would … Continue reading

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“Ladder” by Jane Hirshfield

A man tips back his chair, all evening. Years later, the ladder of small indentations still marks the floor. Walking across it, then stopping. Rarely are what is spoken and what is meant the same. Mostly the mouth says one … Continue reading

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“All the Difficult Hours and Minutes” by Jane Hirshfield

This last week, Jane Hirshfield came out with her new volume of poetry — Come, Thief.  “All the Difficult Hours and Minutes” is one of the poems from this new collection. All the difficult hours and minutes are like salted plums … Continue reading

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