Stephen Dobyns: Stories

All stories, as they reach their end, are sad.

The rain comes; the night falls; Malone dies alone.

With little bites, the pragmatic devours the idealistic.

A bit of ash, a grain of sand; dust blows down the avenues.

Only yesterday the world shook its pom-poms;

roads extended their promise under an azure sky: 

here an oasis, there an oasis, fat dawdles in between. 

Pulled down from their branches, the hours 

were quickly tasted and tossed away. What’s this,

clouds on the horizon, or do you need glasses?

Between the countries of Arriving and Leaving,

no frontier, no change in the weather till later.

The murmuring, unruly mob lumbering behind; 

the walls in the morning yellowed by setting sun.

.

“Stories” from The Day’s Last Light Reddens the Leaves of the Copper Beech, copyright 2016 by Stephen Dobyns, BOA Editions, Ltd.

4 comments on “Stephen Dobyns: Stories”

1. Rebecca Weiner Tompkins

   January 13, 2020

   

   I’m so glad you are featuring these great Stephen Dobyns poems lately.

   LikeLiked by 1 person

   Reply
   • Vox Populi

     January 15, 2020

     

     Thanks, Rebecca! Like you, I love the work of Stephen Dobyns, especially his poetry.

     LikeLike

     Reply
2. Andrea Hollander

   January 13, 2020

   

   Another terrific poem by the terrific Stephen Dobyns. Thanks, Mike, for bringing it forth.

   LikeLiked by 1 person

   Reply
   • Vox Populi

     January 13, 2020

     

     Thanks, Andrea!

     LikeLike

     Reply

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