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Throughout these luminous poems–which touch movingly on the illness and loss of her husband–Digges marvels at the brio with which we fling ourselves daringly into the night:
See how the first dark takes the city in its arms and carries it into what yesterday we called the future.
O, the dying are such acrobats.
Here you must take a boat from one day to the next,
or clutch the girders of the bridge, hand over hand.
But they are sailing like a pendulum between eternity and evening,
diving, recovering, balancing the air.
From the Hardcover edition.
|Telling the Bees||5|
|Greeter of Souls||7|
|Becoming a Poet||11|
|Gown of Moleskins||12|
|The Rainbow Bridge in the Painting of the Sung Dynasty||15|
|Raising the Woolly Mammoth||19|
|Shopping with the Muses||22|
|My Life's Calling||24|
|So Light You Were I Would Have Carried You||32|
|My Literary Marriage||34|
|Two of the Lost Five Foolish Virgins||35|
|The Gardens Offered in Place of My Mother's Dying||39|
|Fence of Sticks||45|