poem index

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

Recorded for Poem-a-Day, July 5, 2016.
About this Poem 

“A lot of sunrises, conversations with friends, books, and romantic poets probably lie behind this poem, which chimes with something Beckett wrote: ‘The creation of the world did not take place once and for all time, but takes place every day.’ Also here, and throughout the book, this poem comes from: a desire to resist apocalyptic anxiety without denying ‘reality.’”
—Maureen N. McLane

OK Let’s Go

Let’s go to Dawn School
and learn again to begin

oh something different
from repetition

Let’s go to the morning
and watch the sun smudge

every bankrupt idea
of nature “you can’t write about

anymore” said my friend
the photographer “except

as science”      
Let’s enroll ourselves

in the school of the sky
where knowing

how to know
and unknow is everything

we’ll come to know
under what they once thought

was the dome of the world
 

Copyright © 2016 by Maureen N. McLane. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 5, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.

Copyright © 2016 by Maureen N. McLane. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 5, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.

Maureen N. McLane

Maureen N. McLane

Maureen N. McLane is the author of the poetry collections Mz N: the serial: A Poem-in-Episodes (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2016). She lives in New York City.

by this poet

poem
little moth
I do not think you'll escape
this night

I do not think
you'll escape this night
little moth

               *

bees in clover
summer half over
friends without lovers

               *

I bite a carrot
horsefly bites me

               *

I thought it was you
moving through the trees

but it was the
poem

They were not kidding
when they said they were blinded
by a vision of love.

It was not just a manner
of speaking or feeling
though it’s hard to say

how the dead
really felt harder
even than knowing the living.

You are so opaque
to me your brief

poem

What I'm looking for
is an unmarked door
we'll walk through
and there: whatever
we'd wished for
beyond the door.

What I'm looking for
is a golden bowl
carefully repaired
a complete world sealed
along cracked lines.

What I'm looking for
may not