He woke each day not knowing which hour would be the worst, then made a grid of language out of ash -- learned not to trust his own mother tongue, knowing all along how it would turn on him in the end. 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...ANOTHER SONG WITHOUT WORDS by PAUL VERLAINE THRENODY by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ODE ON INDOLENCE by JOHN KEATS THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW (SEPTEMBER 25, 1857) by ROBERT TRAILL SPENCE LOWELL DESERT by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON |