Philip Levine: What Work Is

I’ve been thinking a lot about the work of Philip Levine since hearing of his death last Sunday, particularly this poem:

WHAT WORK IS

We stand in the rain in a long line

waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work.

You know what work is—if you’re

old enough to read this you know what

work is, although you may not do it.

Forget you. This is about waiting,

shifting from one foot to another.

Feeling the light rain falling like mist

into your hair, blurring your vision

until you think you see your own bro...