Built long ago, old sills rotting in mud, filled now with soft ash from a thousand fires that warmed me, ash settled indelibly on these books, never to be clean again, and on these shoulders and hands. 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...CONTRA MORTEM: THE COMING OF SNOW by HAYDEN CARRUTH INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR |