Eating Poetry, by Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corner of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry The librarian does not believe what she sees. Here eyes are sad and she walks with her hands in her dress. The poems are gone. The light is dim. The dogs are on the basement stairs…

In View of the Fact, by A. R. Ammons

The people of my time are passing away: my wife is baking for a funeral, a 60-year-old who died suddenly, when the phone rings, and it’s Ruth we care so much about in intensive care: it was once weddings that came so thick and fast, and then, first babies, such a hullabaloo: now, it’s this…