2949to the literary circle
- Oct 14 3:32 AMSpeaking of poetry, this one really blew me away this morning.
The Writer's Almanac for Friday, October 14, 2005
Poem: "Smell and Envy" by Douglas Goetsch from Nobody's Hell. © Hanging
Smell and Envy
You nature poets think you've got it, hostaged
somewhere in Vermont or Oregon,
so it blooms and withers only for you,
so all you have to do is name it: primrose
—and now you're writing poetry, and now
you ship it off to us, to smell and envy.
But we are made of newspaper and smoke
and we dunk your roses in vats of blue.
Birds don't call, our pigeons play it close
to the vest. When the moon is full
we hear it in the sirens. The Pleiades
you could probably buy downtown. Gravity
is the receiver on the hook. Mortality
we smell on certain people as they pass.
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