Published on Academy of American Poets (


The clouds’ disintegrating script
spells out the word squander.

Tree shadows lie down in the field.
Clipped to a grass blade’s underside,

a crisp green grasshopper
weighs down the tip,

swaying between birth and death.
I’ll think of him as we clink

glasses with the guests,
eating olives as the sun goes down.


Copyright @ 2014 by Chase Twichell. Used with permission of the author.

About this Poem

“‘Never’ points at the awareness of a moment of lapsed consciousness, one, of course, of an endless stream. To be awake in the world is to be constantly reminded of one’s own deep sleep.”
—Chase Twichell


Chase Twichell

Born in 1950, Chase Twichell is the author of several books of poetry, including Horses Where the Answers Should Have Been: New and Selected Poems.

Date Published: 2014-10-10

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