Fay Zwicky

Poems and Things By Fay Zwicky

Poems and Things By Fay Zwicky

Poems and Things By Fay Zwicky Yad Vashem, Jerusalem 1994 In the eleventh century Wei T’ai has told us how a poem concentrates upon the thing the better to convey the feeling. Be precise, said wise Wei T’ai, about the thing but reticent about the feeling. When the mind responds, connects...

A Tale of the Great Smokies By Fay Zwicky

A Tale of the Great Smokies By Fay Zwicky

A Tale of the Great Smokies By Fay Zwicky and there she wept for Odysseus Turn from the word turn away, he said, schooled in silence. Made a true wheel, then easy as breathing, moved down the river poling his skiff into mist. Thin neck stiffening, set up to catch the winds of this world in the long ...

The Poet Asks Forgiveness By Fay Zwicky

The Poet Asks Forgiveness By Fay Zwicky

Dead to the world I have failed you Forgive me, traveller. Thirsty, I was no fountain Hungry, I was not bread Tired, I was no pillow Forgive my unwritten poems: the many I have frozen with irony the many I have trampled with anger the many I have rejected in self-defence the many I have ignored in f...

Letting Go By Fay Zwicky

Letting Go By Fay Zwicky

Tell the truth of experience they say they also say you must let go learn to let go let your children go and they go and you stay letting them go because you are obedient and respect everyone’s freedom to go and you stay and you want to tell the truth because you are yours truly its obedient servant...

Soup and Jelly By Fay Zwicky

Soup and Jelly By Fay Zwicky

“Feed Fred and sit with him and mind he doesn’t walk about. He falls. Tell him his ute is safe back home. Thinks someone’s pinched it, peers around the carpark all the time. His family brought him in it and he thinks it’s gone. He was a farmer once . . .” I take the tray. The ice-cream’s almost melt...

The Age of Aquarius By Fay Zwicky

The Age of Aquarius By Fay Zwicky

She slumps in the disabled bay clutching a waffle-cotton gown around a spreading paunch, shambling breasts. Why not say ‘I’? For that’s who sits at 6 a.m. waiting for the health club pool to open in the rain. A grown woman, after all, supposed to know her whereabouts. Today’s...

The Witnesses By Fay Zwicky

The Witnesses By Fay Zwicky

The Witnesses By Fay Zwicky This morning, stirred beneath the agitation of rain came three white-collar magpies to my lawn. Jehovah’s Witness-like they knocked they knocked upon my window pane, stood black demanding entrance. I held my ground but they were smart and oh-so-keen, so upright, fir...