September 9, 2013 / Creative Writing
An articulation of how Rodin’s theory of the unfinished in art is embodied in his statue “Despair.”
October 15, 2007
At twilight you try to hold it together;
you gather your strength but the day comes apart.
That bastard Tomorrow has a grip by the hair;
he pulls the old helpless one out into space.
(Let him try that with Morning.)
All your sure pleasure has flown off to his place,
a black hole where he cooks up a new day
and sends it back dew wet and unwanted.
The spilled sunset is all that remains;
although you cannot stand it, you don’t make a sound.
You have a big house with a pony in back
and unlimited color TV in the corner.
Jeffrey Johnson was the 2006 winner of the Thomas Merton Prize of Poetry of the Sacred and is the author of Harbors of Heaven: Bethlehem and the Places We Love and Acquainted with the Night: the Shadow of Death in Contemporary Poetry. His poetry reviews have recently appeared or are forthcoming in such publications as The Christian Century and Christianity and Literature. He lives in Sudbury, Massachusetts.