Franz Wright

Fairy Godfather to the rescue

‘Tis the season to frolic and I’m idle and sluggish. Nothing like a summer cold to sour the sunshine. And nothing like soured sunshine to call forth the de facto fairy godfather of misery, poet Franz Wright.   So happened I had six Wright poems to dispose of. Leaving them around the small town in […]


Whiskers on dead kittens

  Beginning of November by Franz Wright   The light is winter light. You’ve already felt it before you can open your eyes, and now it’s too late to prepare yourself for this gray originless sorrow that’s filling the room. It’s not winter. The light is winter light, and you’re alone. At last you get […]


What’s down in the basement

  The Door by Franz Wright   Going to enter the aged horizontal cellar door   (the threshing leaves, the greenish light of the approaching storm)   you suddenly notice you’re opening the cover of an enormous book.   One that’s twice as big as you are—   but you know all about that:   […]