By William Matthews
This is often the touchingly entitled selection of poems William Matthews had accomplished almost immediately ahead of demise, simply after his fifty-fifth birthday in November 1997. Is demise ever solely unforeseen? now not, probably, by way of a collector of expertise, a gourmand of language, who can seek advice from "death flickering in you're keen on a pilot light." In in any case, Matthews looks taking a look his final on all issues wonderful: track, nutrients and wine, love. within the attractive valuable poem, "Dire Cure," which varieties one of those backbone to the e-book, he describes the striking implications of the "heroic measures" that stored the existence and restored the health and wellbeing of his spouse from "a children's melanoma (doesn't that possessive holiday your heart?)." He conjures up the loss of life of his favourite jazz musician, Charles Mingus. He speaks of cats, canines, pigs, sheep, of the previous, of heritage, of joys proposed, yet specially, along with his attribute comfy wit, of language and its quiddities: "My love says i believe too rattling a lot and perhaps she's right." in spite of everything is the final word from essentially the most pensive and scrumptious of all our poets.
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Extra resources for After All: Last Poems
3 Catholics fell a few fifty toes from a palace window to land on a dung heap and stay to slink away and thank God for touchdown in shit. One side’s miracle, the other’s mistake. aspects? facets demean the gigantic loneliness of prayer—no resolution, no neighbor, and dying flickering in you love a pilot gentle. Ice Follies The pavements bought glazed with ice, and the brick walks particularly have been depraved slick. you could pay attention your fellow electorate fall all throughout Ann Arbor—startled vowels blossom like tardy parachutes from their fallen our bodies. you understand how dis- aster unites humans? I wobble, you teeter, he she or it topples and all of us give way. You’ve acquired to get correct again at the horse after you’re thrown, they are saying. yet what if you’re additionally the pony? The spry spring again upright: ho ho what a jolly wintry weather. however the claudicators, the lace- boned, the seven-months-pregnant, and the lame all stare mournfully on the slick glitter. infrequently the fast, no longer but the lifeless, they worry the very earth turning underneath their ft. What? What? The meek shall inherit the what? puppy Days Qui me amat, amat et canem intended. —Saint Bernard de Clairvaux (1090–1153) The cat spends such a lot of them lower than the mattress. simply because July, named after Julius Caesar, had thirty-one days, August, named after Augustus Caesar, needed to have thirty-one days, too, and so an afternoon bought filched from February. in simple terms the head puppy (Canis significant, the Romans known as the constellation) will get the day promised to Everydog, and within the proverb “day” is singular. A lacy caul of sweat ensheathes us as we sleep and the wind stalls and the reluctant dirt won’t deign to budge, and all this nothing-going-on is going on for weeks. insects scrawl their our bodies at the air. Nature’s final eco-friendly is brown, the dun mantilla the hills wrap themselves in while the nights quiet down or off, that's it? The cat appears up from torturing a computer virus after which eats it. Spent gentle summer season solstice in Alaska: mild shone all evening lengthy however the birds knew that sunrise got here at 2:33 A. M. for then they lifted their assorted beaks and prompt into the intense, mosquito-freckled air their Babel of track, no longer broad-but slender- solid to whom it could challenge: the furtive vole, rumpled moose, florid vacationer, stubborn mountain. Their song laved what it “fell on,” the best way we are saying the hungry fell on nutrition, gentle on panorama or the wolf at the fold. Stars fell on Alabama. A felon fell on his ass within the legal backyard and his fellow felons made a pleased noise, a rougher musiethan birds produce, yet so is the majority the song we now have. “Let there be light,” God famously implored, and the darkish published a number of hostages. The Cloister The final gentle of a July night tired into the streets lower than. My love and that i had tough issues to claim and listen to, and we sat over wine, faltering, deciding upon our phrases conscientiously. The afternoon prior to I had lain throughout my mattress and my cat leapt as much as lie along me, purring and slowly growing to be dozy. by way of this ritual i may transparent a few muddle from my baroque mind. And into that short emptiness just like a horse cantered, coming immediately to me, and that i knew it introduced demanding speak and harm and worry.