The Poem

1923 –

2013

Arriving at last

It has stumbled across the harsh
Stones, the black marshes.

True to itself, by what craft
And strength it has, it has come
As a sole survivor returns

From the steep pass.
Carved on memory's staff
The legend is nearly decipherable.
It has lived up to its vows

If it endures
The journey through the dark places
To bear witness,
Casting its message
In a sort of singing.

Yours

I am yours as the summer air at evening is
Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,

As the snowcap gleams with light
Lent it by the brimming moon.

Without you I'd be an unleafed tree
Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.

Your love is the weather of my being.
What is an island without the sea?

Daniel Hoffman

2003

Identities

One searches roads receding, endlessly receding, receding.
The other opens all doors with the same key.  Simple.

One’s quick to wrath, the wronged, the righteous, the wroth
   kettledrum.
The other loafs by the river, idles and jiggles his line.

One conspired against statues on stilts, in his pocket
The plot that dooms the city.

Daniel Hoffman

2002

The Center of Attention

As grit swirls in the wind the word spreads.
On pavements approaching the bridge a crowd
Springs up like mushrooms.
They are hushed at first, intently

Looking.  At the top of the pylon
The target of their gaze leans toward them.
The sky sobs
With the sirens of disaster crews

Careening toward the crowd with nets,
Ladders, resuscitation gear, their First
Aid attendants antiseptic in white duck.
The police, strapped into their holsters,

Exert themselves in crowd-control.  They can't 
Control the situation.
Atop the pylon there's a man who threatens
Violence.

Daniel Hoffman

1970

Poems

The Poem

More by this poet

Yours

Identities

The Center of Attention

Poems

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The Poem

More by this poet

Yours

Identities

The Center of Attention

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