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The Dream of the Unified Field: Selected Poems, 1974-1994
   3.92 avg rating — 417 ratings
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3 editions
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The End of Beauty
3.91 avg rating — 187 ratings
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published
1987
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5 editions
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Erosion
 4.26 avg rating — 140 ratings
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2 editions
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Hybrids of Plants and of Ghosts
3.87 avg rating — 117 ratings
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published
1980
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2 editions
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The Errancy
3.68 avg rating — 115 ratings
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published
1997
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4 editions
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Swarm
3.66 avg rating — 112 ratings
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published
1999
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2 editions
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Overlord: Poems
3.39 avg rating — 130 ratings
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4 editions
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Sea Change
3.83 avg rating — 103 ratings
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published
2008
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5 editions
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Never
3.55 avg rating — 98 ratings
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published
2002
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3 editions
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Materialism
3.92 avg rating — 59 ratings
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published
1993
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5 editions
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“This is freedom. This is the force of faith. Nobody gets what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing
is to be pure. What you get is to be changed.”
― Jorie Graham
is to be pure. What you get is to be changed.”
― Jorie Graham
“...love / is turning out the lights when others do, a curfew we / would take / for sails.”
― Jorie Graham
― Jorie Graham
“This is freedom. This is the face of faith, nobody gets
what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing
is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by
each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself.
Also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something
at sea. Here hands full of sand, letting it
sift through
in the wind, I look in and say take this, hurry. And if I listen
now? Listen, I was not saying anything. It was only
something I did. I could not chose words. I am free to go.
I cannot, of course, come back. Not to this. Never.
It is a ghost posed on my lips. Here: never.”
― Jorie Graham, Never
what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing
is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by
each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself.
Also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something
at sea. Here hands full of sand, letting it
sift through
in the wind, I look in and say take this, hurry. And if I listen
now? Listen, I was not saying anything. It was only
something I did. I could not chose words. I am free to go.
I cannot, of course, come back. Not to this. Never.
It is a ghost posed on my lips. Here: never.”
― Jorie Graham, Never
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