Debora Greger’s most recent book of poetry is Western Art, published by Penguin in fall 2004.
Summer Recessional
From the last carriage, I watch England go by. Good-bye, summer, we must go. Good-bye to that field of barley stubble we just passed, a blur of worthless gold, and […]
Poetry
Fall 2007
Complaint of the Rain in English
Down the silt-stained velvet of a swan's long neck, raindrops roll. Between the great white wings, they pool. You've seen it, too, as you scurry by: you want to cup […]
Poetry
Autumn 2005
Snake Bird
after William Bartram, 1776 All over Florida, there is a curious species they call the snake bird. Is it on Chinese screens or in some India pictures that I have […]
Poetry
Autumn 2005
My First Mermaid
I In Florida, where these things can happen, we stopped at the last roadside attraction. Into a small theater decorated with mold, we descended. Behind a curtain sagging like seaweed, […]
Poetry
Summer 2005
Summer Recessional
From the last carriage, I watch England go by. Good-bye, summer, we must go. Good-bye to that field of barley stubble we just passed, a blur of worthless gold, and […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
Amy in the Afterworld
In memory of Amy Clampitt A blue flame coursed across the willow where it wept into the river, keeping low— a jewel lost from its setting, a ring sinking— and […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
The Palace at 4:00 A.M.
Who’s sleeping next to you? It’s not loneliness—it’s your wife. —Nazim Hikmet And then one morning the courtship is over. No longer does the male hold forth at 4:00 A.M. […]
Poetry
Winter 2000
On the Oregon Trail
Here dons, grandees, but chiefly dames abound, Skill’d in the ogle of a roguish eye, Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound; None through their cold disdain are doom’d […]
Poetry
Winter 2000
Venice Despoiled by Time
Still merchant seaman, still whore! There comes a point where you make us pay to go any further, even in church. So much to lift the skirt, so much to […]
Poetry
Autumn 1992
The Sadness of the Subtropics
I went as far as the earth allows one to go. LEVI-STRAUSS, Tristes Tropiques A last breath has been dug from the pale sand and held, the open grave as […]
Poetry
Autumn 1992
Wind Wrapped in Snow
Elder brother, younger than all of us now however much you age, firstborn not answering to the name you can’t know was yours, first dead, old ghost, your shirt is […]