“It was time
she said, to move on, her gaze
looking out at the avenues and smaller streets,
at the silk dresses on the mannequins in
storefronts, all of them, across the
planet, the verandas poking out under the
hemlocks, violin strings crossing from
one century to another, although now I could hear they were
sirens all along,
invisible and desperate the warnings
in their rise and fall.”—Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Jorie Graham, “Time Frame,” London Review of Books, Apr. 21, 2022
The image accompanying
this post shows Jorie Graham at a poetry reading at the Library of Congress,
Dec. 6, 2007.
she said, to move on, her gaze
looking out at the avenues and smaller streets,
at the silk dresses on the mannequins in
storefronts, all of them, across the
planet, the verandas poking out under the
hemlocks, violin strings crossing from
one century to another, although now I could hear they were
sirens all along,
invisible and desperate the warnings
in their rise and fall.”—Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Jorie Graham, “Time Frame,” London Review of Books, Apr. 21, 2022
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