Summer 2012 • Vol. XXXIV No. 3 Poetry |

From the Window of the Quiet Car

1 Insular as a Quaker meeting. How in silence the speed of the several landscapes quickens, how the money green of the intermittent trees multiplies. How the brick industrial ruins take on integrity again, as if fast light has at last erased the muscle-bound graffiti. How the oil on the native waters mixes and unmixes. How the basic houses and the backsides of small cities blend, one heavy dog on a leash with its heavy urban owner. How the white sun dapples, goes away, comes back as glare. How the words of the sometimes book move independently. How the mind is afloat, adrift, finding its way in gravity. How to sleep, now to sleep, off and on, sitting up like a child. How to hear what someone's inspired to say already too out loud into an ear, a cell phone, or the meditating air. 2 Thee for my recitative— the long whistle, long shadow, at so many miles an hour, the wheels, if there are wheels, a trailing echo, yet inside the inside, stillness, if you close your eyes. All

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Stanley Plumly’s most recent book of poems is Orphan Hours (W.W. Norton, 2012). His collection Old Heart won the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and the Paterson Poetry Prize and was a finalist for the National Book Award. In 2015, his book of prose The Immortal Evening won the Truman Capote Prize for Literary Criticism. Plumly is a Distinguished University Professor at the University of Maryland. In 2010 he was elected to membership in the American Academy of Arts and Sciences.

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By Stanley Plumly

1 Insular as a Quaker meeting. How in silence the speed of the several landscapes quickens, how the money green of the intermittent trees multiplies. How the brick industrial ruins […]

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