Carol Frost has published eleven books of poems, most recently Honeycomb, which won the 2010 Florida Book Award. Trilogy is forthcoming in 2014 from Tupelo Press. She is the Theodore Bruce and Barbara Lawrence Alfond Professor of English at Rollins College.
Poetry
Spring 2013
Florida
1. Long before you turned on the light, I heard hurricane fill the oak. As morning flowers from hell, little hellish flames, we are still here. Let’s ask how dayfly […]
Poetry
Spring 2010
Apiary 35
Erring shoe and sour bib her dress, wild hair, the woman is following the turning path. About her attendants in white in a parallel world wait. One keeps the drug cart. One […]
Poetry
Spring 2010
Apiary 18
The honeycomb is made from flowers and the materials for wax bees gather from the resinous gum of trees, while honey is distilled from dew. At the rising of the […]
Poetry
Spring 2010
Apiary 41
All things are taken from us and in a little while our cares are numb. Lotus pollen wafts through the valleys and shadows. Our bodies outlast us, sleep- wandering in […]
Poetry
Summer 2005
Dolphin
A slow storm coming across the gulf: a raddling: wind in palmettos? or a gaunt bird's bill? Given ears and skin and eyes, nose and tongue: given stories of arrival—the […]
Poetry
Summer 2005
Manatee
Shading to pink on the underparts: soft and liable to be mistaken for Sirens: how sea sound comes along the shore:: alone I found one shark-bitten deep in the pelvic […]
Poetry
Summer 2005
Black Point
I want to say oracle: sea grass: crab cluck: swollen sheepshead in a fitful sea nodding assent:: I who listened for decades to familiar voicings Now heard Delphic imaginings low […]
Poetry
Summer 2005
Low Tide
Leave leave me on a naked island mud and encrustations of oysters glittering where through some magic I may forget the always passing of day and night hands canceling hands […]
Poetry
Summer 2002
Driftwood
Have I lied to myself about art? Everything can't be art. Bird not bird but driftwood roughed up by the sea, forgotten, found, by one who desires a gnarled reminder […]
Poetry
Summer 2002
Gull
Every wig, every instant burgeoning with wind has an attendant grace. The sky sweats, copper haze blears the horizon for tomorrow's storm the gulls annunciate. Ah (you say), also consider […]
Poetry
Spring 2000
Procedure
The flesh comes free and the nodes are loosened from their element. The nerve will never stir; no caress again will cause a tingle. Bandages pack the numb chest, the […]
Poetry
Spring 2000
Marsyas’ Art
When the god came with his lute and knife, asking, Have you made your last song?— I told him I would make him the song for death: great light of […]
Poetry
Spring 2000
Red Pond
How cool it lies. It only speaks of having little feeling—or too much. Drop by scarlet drop its rhetoric spreads to the farthest shore; waters brim against the roots and […]
Poetry
Spring 2000
After Grave Illness
The body has two seasons and doesn’t exist to be changed; it itself changes—as moths come into a field, then the hunted deer. Who knows from the outside where death […]
Poetry
Summer/ Autumn 1997
Rural Weather
The sun shaking open the pink and yellow sky— lakes showing their early fires—has grown taciturn and withdrawn in Arkansas, where a tornado, deeply out of its own depths, stirs. […]
Poetry
Summer/ Autumn 1997
A Good Night’s Sleep
Reassured that we return as before, we enter a land where everything changes, densities, colors, rhythms of breathing, and we meet the dead. What sort of name might turn up […]
Poetry
Summer/ Autumn 1997
Waking
It was dusk, the light hesitating and a murmur in the wind, when the deer, exhausted, turned to look at me, an arrow in its side. Though I pity dreamers, […]
Poetry
Spring 1991
Modern History
A page of birds swirls to the bare tree, Separating as if lettering A free-for-all. They don’t fear the catFlattening itself on the feeder Roof; they watch the short tail […]
Poetry
Spring 1981
The Haircut
When the boy’s head is heavy with his own secret cap of hair, his mother calls him to her, asking him to tell her about his day. When last she […]
Summer 2013
Appetite
Would you mind less or more the trout's
coughed-up shrimp and two hemispheres
of yellow roe in the split belly if you ate
at earth's common table knowing beak and knowing claw,
Carol Frost
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