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...THE CREATION by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER AGAINST THEM WHO LAY UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMAN by WILLIAM HABINGTON THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED by JONATHAN SWIFT THE FOLLY OF BEING COMFORTED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 30. THE HUNTER CAUGHT BY HIS OWN GAMER by PHILIP AYRES |