Jane Hirshfield

Minute Two

Day two, commemorating the second minute of the last moments of George Floyd’s life:     Let Them Not Say by Jane Hirshfield   Let them not say:   we did not see it. We saw.   Let them not say:   we did not hear it. We heard.   Let them not say:    they did not taste […]

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In which I am not a sugar ant

  Respite by Jane Hirshfield   Day after quiet day passes. I speak to no one besides the dog. To her, I murmur much I would not otherwise say.   We make plans then break them on a moment’s whim. She agrees; though sometimes bringing to my attention a small blue ball.   Passing the […]

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Please, sir, I want some more

  Ask Much, the Voice Suggested by Jane Hirshfield   Ask much, the voice suggested, and I startled. Feeling my body like the trembling body of a horse tied to its tree while the strange noise passes over its ears. I who in extremity had always wanted less, even of eating, of sleeping. Agile, the […]

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A graceful room, grief-less

  In a Room With Five People, Six Griefs by Jane Hirshfield   In a room with five people, six griefs. Some you will hear of, some not. Let the room hold them, their fears, their anger. Let there be walls and windows, a ceiling. A door through which time changer of everything can enter. […]

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New look at old friend

  Meeting the Light Completely   by Jane Hirshfield   Even the long-beloved was once an unrecognized stranger.   Just so, the chipped lip of a blue-glazed cup, blown field of a yellow curtain, might also, flooding and falling, ruin your heart.   A table painted with roses. An empty clothesline.   Each time, the […]

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