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Tomorrow
Give my face away
to the man with the wagon,
who has come to collect
all of the faces. Don’t
ask him for money or
where I’ll be buried—the
abolished I, the I who won’t care.
Give my stories away to the last
birds in the meadow, who are
tiny and nameless but still
desperate for something—their
eyes keep darting, they’ll peck
even at paper. —Or stop
telling those stories to
the men in the tall trees,
who never existed.
The trees have been stripped
of the leaves and their shadows
and even the buds that helped us
believe in a spring. You must
give spring away and Easter
and birthdays. And the children who run
from hiding place to
hiding place? Let them
cover their eyes and
count out their seconds,
as the wagon man watches—he has
lives to collect and
quotas to fill—and how
many stunned nights of No
more—
~~~
The Subject of Flowers
On the subject of flowers, he
can’t say a word. On the
subject of drowning, he writes
pages and pages. When his
granddaughter begs, Zayde, where
are we going? he whispers to himself—to
the land of not wanting. As the sullen students
hand in their papers, he composes a treatise
on the end of all teaching. On
the bus to the doctor, he still
rehearses his dying, though he has
done it so often: a test result, the final
stab in the chest. And when
the doctor says, Fine, really,
nothing is wrong, he
smiles to himself. —Do you
get the joke? Or do you
know it too well? All along the road
are the daffodils, as always,
waving and waving—to
no one.
~~~~
Kathryn Levy is the author of two poetry collections: Losing the Moon (Canio’s Editions, 2006) and Reports (New Rivers Press, 2013). Levy was founding director of The Poetry Exchange and the New York City Ballet Poetry Project, two poets-in-the-schools organizations focused on underserved students in the New York City public schools. She lives in Sag Harbor, NY and is active on peace and justice issues.
Copyright 2025 Kathryn Levy
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That the daffodils “as always” are waving and waving in the poem is Kathryn’s signature lyrical moment. This touch of childlike observation makes the poem all the more dire and real.
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Just so.
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Oh my goodness-how do I not know Kathryn Levy’s work until now? These poems are so remarkable I just wrote to my indie bookstore asking if they can get me a copy of her most recent book!
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I admire Kathryn’s poems as well. Glad you are ordering her book.
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Meg, Thank you! I’ve sent you a DM on Facebook.
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Thanks to all who responded to these two poems. I appreciate it.
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Yes, I get it. Reflections of how I feel today. But nothing is really wrong (even though we all know better), and the daffodils keep waving.
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Enjoyed these two poems, daffodils waving to readers!
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Yes!
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I understand the purpose of presenting these two dark poems today, but it seems to me, that the “human world” has always existed in dark times; from Cain and Abel or the Cave man, however you perceive it, till today, there has always been war, hatred, greed etc. but to me the daffodils waving along the road are waving at me or anyone who passes and dares to take a glance. As Thoreau preached, each day we should take a walk, best alone, and nod to and converse with the daffodils or whatever presents itself.
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Leo,
I too believe there is a bond between us and the daffodils or whatever presents itself. Bluebonnets in Texas, the treeful of winter birds down the street on this bitter cold day here. Life, color, objects of all sorts of our affection. How they perceive us is still in infant days of research. Yes, today should be remembered as MLK day, not DJT day,
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Thanks, Leo.
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This poet has risen to new levels of expression and relevant content over the past year. We wait for each new work with keen anticipation.
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Thanks, Alfred. I love Kathryn’s poems, and I admire her courage as an activist.
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powerful and exquisite
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A shiver on this dark morning.
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These two poems are like rhizomes that network below the surface, but in the darkness of the soil they keep the things above, somehow, alive.
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A poet whose voice has grown darker in these, her most recent offerings… as it descends its thin columns of realizations and grieving and even the occasional grim humor…but in each word descending, a bow to the life she and we must appreciate and live until we no longer can. Brava to the speaker of such words.
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Yes, I admire Kathryn’s dark reminders that we live in a dark time.
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