Jane Hirshfield is the author of two new books, The Beauty (poems) and Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World (essays), both appearing from Knopf in Spring 2015. She is a current Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets.
Poetry
Mar/Apr 2015
Of Amplitude There Is No Scraping Bottom
In certain styles of Chinese painting, three diagonal brush strokes balance a mountain. Like that, the word for happiness keeps inside it the word for chance. For haplessness, also. You […]
Poetry
Mar/Apr 2015
My Pronoun
I say I and a small mosquito drinks from my tongue but many say we and hear I say you or he andhear I what can we do with this […]
Poetry
Winter 2011
A Day Is Vast
A day is vast. Until noon. Then it's over. Yesterday's pondwater braided still wet in my hair. I don't know what time is. You can't ever find it. But you […]
Poetry
Winter 2011
Two Rains
The dog came in and shook off water in every direction. A chaotic rainstorm, walking on four big paws. The outside rain fell straight, in parallel lines from a child's […]
Poetry
Winter 2011
Sweater
What is asked of one is not what is asked of another. A sweater takes on the shape of its wearer, a coffee cup sits to the left or the […]
Poetry
Winter 2005
Nine Pebbles
AFTER DEGAS The woman who will soon take a lover shaves her legs in the bath, considering: would knowing or not knowing she does this please him more. ECSTASY: CZECHOSLAVAKIA […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
Poem with Two Endings
Say “death” and the whole room freezes— even the couches stop moving, even the lamps. Like a squirrel suddenly aware it is being looked at. Say the word continuously, and […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
Sleep
Horses, yes.Dogs, old ones especially.People of course.Even trees. Planets, atoms, do not.Bacterium, virus?Unlikely. Pens sleepmost of the time,but awaken quickly—one shakeor a few dry strokes suffice. A fire sleeps by […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
Inflection Finally Ungraspable by Grammar
I haven’t yet found the pronoun through which to touch it directly. You may feel differently. You may think you can simply reach through all the way with your […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
Orange Oil in Darkness
The useful part of things is elegance— in mathematics, bridges. Even in hedges of ripe persimmons or mandarin oranges, elegance solves for the minimum possible, then dissolves. The art is […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
Broken-off Twig Budding out in the Path
Only the slightest thaw, and something plops in the water that clears. It may be nothing that swims, nothing that hops, or hopes. Edge-ice falling in. Something that happens and […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
Spell to Be Said after Illness
Crabapple holding in arms what almost has vanished, selvage and leaf-lavish open. Pumpkin seed in the hand, lick the salt after. What remains, after. Bowl fill with woodpecker's shavings of […]
Poetry
Winter 1997
“Beautiful Dawn”
We were three coming over a ridge interrupted by stars in a truck of culled fruit for drying for winter. Then one of us woke, said "Beautiful dawn," and slept […]
Broken-off Twig Budding Out in the Path
From The Kenyon Review, New Series, Spring 1997, Vol. XIX, No. 2 Only the slightest thaw, and something plops in the water that clears. It may be nothing that swims, […]
Jane Hirshfield
Jane Hirshfield is the author of two new books, The Beauty (poems) and Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World (essays), both appearing from Knopf in spring 2015. She […]