This warmish night of the thaw in January a beech chunk smoldering in my Herald No. 22A box stove suddenly takes fire and burns hot, or rather I suddenly who was reading the sweet and bitter poems of Paul Goodman dead last summer am aware how my shed becomes a furnace, and taking my shovel I ladle a great mush of snow into the stove's mouth to quieten it and then step quickly outside again to watch the plume of steam rise from my stovepipe straightly and vanish into the mist. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HENRY LINCOLN JOHNSON - LAWYER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GOOD SHEPHERD by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO APPARITIONS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE CAUTIOUS HOUSEHOLDER by ANAXILAS A TRIBUTE TO DANTE by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO FIRST NIGHT-FLIGHT by MARGARET BODEN |