Hayden Carruth
Born
in Woodbury, Connecticut, The United States
August 03, 1921
Died
September 29, 2008
Genre
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Scrambled Eggs & Whiskey
3 editions
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published
1996
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The Voice That is Great Within Us: American Poetry of the Twentieth Century
by
15 editions
—
published
1981
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Collected Shorter Poems, 1946-1991
2 editions
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published
1992
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Toward the Distant Islands: New and Selected Poems
by
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published
2006
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Tell Me Again How the White Heron Rises and Flies Across the Nacreous River at Twilight Towards the Distant Islands
2 editions
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published
1989
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Collected Longer Poems
4 editions
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published
1993
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Doctor Jazz
2 editions
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published
2001
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Letters to Jane
2 editions
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published
2004
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Last Poems
by
3 editions
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published
2012
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From Snow and Rock, from Chaos
5 editions
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published
1973
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“Why speak of the use
of poetry? Poetry
is what uses us.”
― Toward the Distant Islands: New and Selected Poems
of poetry? Poetry
is what uses us.”
― Toward the Distant Islands: New and Selected Poems
“A poem is not an expression, nor
it is an object. Yet it somewhat
partakes of both. What a poem is
Is never to be known, for which I
have learned to be grateful.”
―
it is an object. Yet it somewhat
partakes of both. What a poem is
Is never to be known, for which I
have learned to be grateful.”
―
“On Being Asked to Write a Poem Against the War in Vietnam
Well I have and in fact
more than one and I'll
tell you this too
I wrote one against
Algeria that nightmare
and another against
Korea and another
against the one
I was in
and I don't remember
how many against
the three
when I was a boy
Abyssinia Spain and
Harlan county
and not one
breath was restored
to one
shattered throat
mans womans or childs
not one not
one
but death went on and on
never looking aside
except now and then like a child
with a furtive half-smile
to make sure I was noticing.”
―
Well I have and in fact
more than one and I'll
tell you this too
I wrote one against
Algeria that nightmare
and another against
Korea and another
against the one
I was in
and I don't remember
how many against
the three
when I was a boy
Abyssinia Spain and
Harlan county
and not one
breath was restored
to one
shattered throat
mans womans or childs
not one not
one
but death went on and on
never looking aside
except now and then like a child
with a furtive half-smile
to make sure I was noticing.”
―
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