poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

About this poet

Dan Beachy-Quick is the author, most recently, of gentlessness (Tupelo Press, 2015) and A Brighter Word Than Bright: Keats at Work (Iowa University Press, 2013). He is a Monfort Professor teaching in the MFA Creative Writing Program at Colorado State University and lives in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Heroisms, 4, 5

4.

I speak these words directly into his yawn

Open cave of
                    his dark almost kind
                                                  of fire-lit mouth 


And the shadows there my words form these shadows
In the back of the hero's throat

A world we applaud where chained to the ground
We watch the trees walk past us. There are other ways to describe the year:

Seasons of
The hero's boredom. 


5.

Where the horror is comparison, honor sees
Hands in the trees instead of leaves—

Honesty asks why the applause is so quiet
When the wind blows so hard—

Breath is the atmosphere at utmost extreme
Where the lungs are flowers—thought the dew—

The sun doubts everything, a general statement
In whose light the hero sees these helpless things

Beg mercy, beg darkness for obscurity—
We do not comprehend the awe, it comprehends us—

When leaves fold in halves they look sleepy
Like eyes, but these eyes are fists

Copyright © 2010 by Dan Beachy-Quick. Used by permission of the author.

Copyright © 2010 by Dan Beachy-Quick. Used by permission of the author.

Dan Beachy-Quick

Dan Beachy-Quick

Dan Beachy-Quick is the author, most recently, of gentlessness (Tupelo Press, 2015) and A Brighter Word Than Bright: Keats at Work (Iowa University Press, 2013).

by this poet

poem

Even this
brief thought is endless. A
man speaks as if unaware of the
erotic life of the ampersand. In the
isolate field he comes to count one by
one the rare butterflies as they
die. He says witness is to say what
you mean as if you mean it. So many
of them are the color of

2
poem


The wars are everywhere, o even within.

Drawn in poor bee by the dance loud hum

Of some

poem
You have to walk so close to the mirror
Before your breath clouds the image
You need to get a running start
You need to get a running start
To break through the refrain into repetition
As exile's continuous form forms the same
Words twice thrush thrush
Drab bird unseen in the dark dark's underbrush
Sung from the