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[…] Inside the glass, the abstract
tide of fortune turned
from high to low overnight.

The Empty Glass” from The Seven Ages by Louise Glück.  Copyright © 2001 by Louise Glück. 

Whirling in the dark universe,
alone, afraid, unable to influence fate—

What do we have really?
Sad tricks with ladders and shoes,
tricks with salt, impurely motivated recurring
attempts to build character.
What do we have to appease the great forces?

Rita Dove reading her poems in the Montpelier Room, May 4, 1995

Dove, Rita, Gertrude Clarke Whittall Poetry And Literature Fund, and Archive Of Recorded Poetry And Literature. Rita Dove reading her poems in the Montpelier Room, May 4. 1995. Audio. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/95770167/>.

Contents :

From Mother love : Heroes ; Persephone, falling ; The narcissus flower ; Statistic : the witness ; Mother Love ; Breakfast of champions ; Persehpone in hell (section I) ; Wiederkehr ; The Bistro Styx ; Demeter mourning ; Exit ; Afield ; Lost brilliance ; Demeter, waiting ; Lamentations ; Used ; Missing ; Demeter’s prayer to Hades ; Her island — Evening primrose — Incarnation in Phoenix — The first book — Vacation.


Heroes

A flower in a weedy field
make it a poppy. You pick it.
Because it begins to wilt

you run to the nearest house
to ask for a jar of water.
The woman on the porch starts

screaming: you’ve picked the last poppy
in her miserable garden, the one
that gives her the strength every morning

to rise! It’s too late for apologies
though you go through the motions, offering
trinkets and a juicy spot in the written history

she wouldn’t live to read, anyway
So you strike her, she hits
her head on a white boulder,

and there’s nothing to be done
but break the stone into gravel
to prop up the flower in the stolen jar

you have to take along,
because you’re a fugitive now
and you can’t leave clues.

Although the story’s starting to unravel,
the villagers stirring as your heart
pounds into your throat. O why

did you pick that idiot flower?
Because it was the last one
and you knew

it was going to die.



Related : Louise Glück’s Persephone the Wanderer

Creeping in Texas

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Pink evening primrose, Oenothera speciosa, via Texas Highways.

Found in a lot in Houston.

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Habitat: Roadsides, […], prairie, disturbed ground, at generally low elevations.

Habit/Form: creeping, erect, spreading


East Texas by Kenneth Porter (Poetry (September 1943)) describes a leg of my trip, in reverse.


EVENING PRIMROSE
Poetically speaking, growing up is mediocrity.
– NED ROREM

Neither rosy nor prim,
not cousin to the cowslip
nor the extravagant fuchsia,
I doubt anyone has ever
picked one for show,
though the woods must be fringed
with their lemony effusions.

Sun blathers its baronial
endorsement, but they refuse
to join the ranks. Summer
brings them in armfuls,
yet, when the day is large,
you won’t see them fluttering
the length of the road.

They’ll wait until the world’s
tucked in and the sky’s
one ceaseless shimmer – then
lift their saturated eyelids
and blaze, blaze
all night long
for no one.

Rita Dove (via UVA)