Spring 1985 • Vol. VII No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 1985 |

The Moon and Constellations

None of the cliches will do it: like glass: like crystal: pure As the driven snow. But what can you say? Branch tips Freeze into this air, inseparable from dusklight As capillaries from flesh, and as incomprehensibly patterned. Maybe that's a cliché too. It's five below zero, and due To get colder as the sun drops. Maybe that's a fact. In this weather, the world clarifies itself: it's a record winter, And things are hard. All over town, cars slide Downhill backward, spin against the way they drive. You can hear them whine, then cough: see headlights darkenAt streetside as batteries die. It's physical law Turned ugly in the middle of Main Street. But I've driven out. On this road nobody has traveled before me since snowfall And the temperature's sudden plunge, I hold my own Way steady, and watch the light take on a clarity I'd call luminosity if I weren't already talking about light. There is no word for the difference. Driving home yesterday, I did not see how hard and separate the

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T. R. Hummer’s tenth book of poems, Ephemeron, was published by LSU Press in November 2011; his second book of essays, Available Surfaces, will appear in University of Michigan Press’s Poets on Poetry Series in 2012. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and teaches at Arizona State University.

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Terrorism

By T. R. Hummer

None of the cliches will do it: like glass: like crystal: pure As the driven snow. But what can you say? Branch tips Freeze into this air, inseparable from dusklight […]

Text

By T. R. Hummer

None of the cliches will do it: like glass: like crystal: pure As the driven snow. But what can you say? Branch tips Freeze into this air, inseparable from dusklight […]

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