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Hayden Carruth

Fall 1993

The Camps

By Hayden Carruth

“Yes, art is palliative; but the substance of art is real. Can you make something from nothing?” IVAN TOLKACHENKO When the young brown-haired woman was shot a drop of blood […]

Fall 1993

Surrealism

By Hayden Carruth

for Charlie S. Ah, another summer morning. Air so thick it’ll make your teeth wrinkle and your toes stop talking to one another. So a mourning dove—damned clumsy perchers—alights teeteringly […]

Fall 1993

Waterloo

By Hayden Carruth

Overlooking the battlefield, on that grassy ridge where the ladies and gentlemen of Brussels brought their servants and picnic hampers and card tables to watch, you could smell the exploding […]

Fall 1993

Ecstasy

By Hayden Carruth

For years it was in sex and I thought   this was the most of it, so brief a moment     of transport out of oneself or in music which lasted a […]

Summer 1989

Ideal

By Hayden Carruth

Does a time come when two people love  one another so completely that they don’t need to say it? That would be the ideal  perhaps. When we go out to […]

Spring 1968

Once More

By Hayden Carruth

Once more by the brook the alder leaves turn mauve, bronze, violet, beautiful after the green of crude summer; galled black stems, pithy, tangled, twist in the flesh-colored vines of […]

Summer 1960

Abelard Remembering

By Hayden Carruth

(A fragment from a longer poem.)             And praise therefore the woman, Beauty as prime experience, breaking. Praise Her hair flowing; saying of its softnesses That candlelights were sieved to […]

Fall 1950

Littoral

By Hayden Carruth

Deplore the poor and faithless mind That hears far winds from overseas, That knows the shoreward waves defined In formal tidings, artful pleas. The arm is quieted by guess, Caressing […]

Fall 1950

The Snow

By Hayden Carruth

I This is the white king’s palace: snowflakes flounce On every draught, dally in secret aisles, Bow, and depart—an instant clap of fury, And winds, O sparrow, shake your chandelier […]