The 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry
Life on Mars by Tracy K. Smith
After finishing Life on Mars, I couldn’t bear to stop reading. I flipped back to the beginning, and it was like starting a whole new book. The poems grew and changed between readings, making me feel as if I grew and changed with them. Absolutely amazing poetry.
Links to a few poems from the book:
Video link:
Tracy K. Smith reads from Life on Mars for the NewsHour Poetry Series
Here’s more of that interview and reading:
Algal layers of rock
Pillars of change
Rising from acid reduction
And nitrogenous seep
Busy bellows of corruption
Poisoning earth
With what rusts
From saline retreats
Tilted engines of life
For the record, the riddle
Marching on a muddled shore
Squat and stony muses
Of marvel and breath
In this weathered, easy air
You must enter the dream
Like a rose petal unfolding
At midnight
Making no sound
And appearing not to move
The journey that is not a journey
Begins and ends on a rose petal
Unfolding
The rose has grown wild
Against a broken trellis
And an abandoned house
That sags with absence
This dream place would be barren
But for the rose
Petal unfolding
Grown wild against silence
Which you cannot break
Even if you could be heard
And what you will not say
Is all that remains of this house
The house of things you’ve known
The rose petal
Unfolding at midnight
Is why you have come
Not the broken window
Which allows time to seep
In and out of absence
Curling over and through
And past
You must exit the dream
You have seen enough
Been enough alone
Unable to start or end
The journey that is not a journey
While you were dreaming
The rose petal unfolded
Though neither of you moved
A few poems for Mother’s Day, starting with one of my own:
Longing (which goes with the photo, above)
My mother’s roses by Kay Middleton
Mother’s Pastry by Jeanette Gallagher
Helping My Daughter Move into Her First Apartment by Sue Ellen Thompson
These two images make up the entirety of my mockingbird archive. Mockingbirds are not scarce, nor are they particularly camera shy, so I don’t know why there aren’t more.
Speaking of mockingbirds, here’s a video/slideshow from my husband’s archives (with a poem I wrote after seeing the photos).
Rae Spencer 