poem index

poet

Stephen Kuusisto

Printer-friendly version
Stephen Kuusisto

Stephen Kuusisto was born in Exeter, New Hampshire, in 1955. He received a BA from Hobart and William Smith Colleges and an MFA from the University of Iowa. He is the author of the poetry collections Letters to Borges (Copper Canyon Press, 2013) and Only Bread, Only Light (Copper Canyon Press, 2000). He is also the author of several works of nonfiction, including Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey (Simon & Schuster), which is forthcoming in 2018. Kuusisto, who was born legally blind, is a disability rights activist and has served as a cultural diplomat for the U. S. State Department. He currently teaches at Syracuse University in New York.

by this poet

poem

Up late, reading alone,
I feed printed pages
Into the Kurzweil scanner,
An electronic reader
For the blind.

Randomly now
I take books from my shelves,
Open the mysterious volumes,
And lay them flat on the machine.
I can’t say
What’s coming next—
I wait in

poem

At times the blind see light,
And that moment is the Sistine ceiling,

Grace among buildings—no one asks
For it, no one asks.

After all, this is solitude,
Daylight’s finger,

Blake’s angel
Parting willow leaves.

I should know better.
Get with the business

Of

poem

The dry universe
Gives up its fruit,

Black seeds are raining,
Pascal dreams of a wristwatch,

And heaven help me
The metempsychosis of book

Is upon me. I hunch over it,
The boy in the asylum

Whose fingers leapt for words.
(In the dark books are living things,