The way an oyster does A Fragment by Kay Ryan www.csmonitor.com Her poems, [Kay Ryan] says, don't begin with a simple image or sound, but instead start "the way an oyster does, with an aggravation." An old saw may nudge her repeatedly, such as "It's always darkest before the dawn" or "Why did the chicken cross the road?" "I think, 'What about those chickens?' " she says, "and I start an investigation of what that means. Poets rehabilitate clichés." poetrymeaningcliché
Crown A Poem by Kay Ryan www.poetryfoundation.org Too much rain loosens trees. In the hills giant oaks fall upon their knees. You can touch parts you have no right to— places only birds should fly to. naturetreesmelancholytouch
Sonorisms I the authenticity of the gesture as if the air had taken on substance representation and re-presentation a first order of presence this painterly game of pick-up sticks Irwin's "fetish finish" questions all of whose possible answers would never exhaust them the art is what has happened to the viewer an art of things not looked at a dialogue of immanence the information that takes place between things your house is the last before the infinite his "project of general peripatetic availability" that shiver of perception perceiving itself a desert of pure feeling Lawrence Wechler & Robert Irwin, Seeing Is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees PhonaestheticsArchitectural dark matter wordseuphony