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...CAMPUS SONNET: BEFORE AN EXAMINATION by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET JOURNEY TO A KNOWN PLACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL DEATH SNIPS PROUD MEN by CARL SANDBURG HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 1. VIETNAM by KAREN SWENSON |