- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
Each will go fast, faster. Then stop.
Still as memory. Slack as rope.
Books gape. The mystery's
breath itself, sun, dark. Sharp keys
poke my pocket like a need.
Still, I don't want to leave.
Lingering with penitents
soon to wake seems mostly right,
if it's little, really, but masks,
a room of dust on fate's books,
a room of sun blurring words
where people come for answers.
-from "In the Library"
About the Author:
Dave Smith, Elliot Coleman Professor of Poetry and chairman of the Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, is the author of twenty books of poetry, fiction, criticism, and memoir. Recipient of the Dictionary of Literary Biography Yearbook Award for Most Distinguished Volume of Poetry for The Wick of Memory: New and Selected Poems, 1970–2000, he has won fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Guggenheim Foundation, the Rockefeller Foundation, and the Lyndhurst Foundation. Smith lives with his wife in Baltimore.