I Want to be William Stafford
I want to be William Stafford
and write a poem on my last day,
something left on the screen,
something poignant they’ll pick apart
looking for premonitions that I knew
death was downstairs with a foot on the riser.
I’m afraid in reality it’ll be nothing more
than a grocery list (raspberries,
if they look firm), or to-do’s (tuck-point
the chimney) that will remain awhile longer undone.
But if it were a poem,
then my body could ride off in rhythm,
my soul peeking through the rhyme.
Then you might be willing to carry my ashes
all night through the blue canyon
to that place where the stones always shine.
14 thoughts on "I Want to be William Stafford"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
This is a beautiful ode to Stafford. I always call him my “gateway drug” into poetry. When I discovered him years ago I was young and idealistic. I needed an accepting and loving poetry mentor. (Not that I ever met him but I had planned on it and reading his poetry and books about the writing process felt like mentoring.) You have captured so much here — even the “picking apart” of some of the critics (but by no means all). I adore the last verse,
He remains one of my favorites. Deceivingly approachable. Thanks for the comments.
Perfection !
The last six lines left the little people people that live in my head clamoring to go along as well. Love it.
I wonder if your little people are the same as those in my head. Are yours living rent-free, too? (And thanks for the comment.)
Probably related 😉 mine pay rent by working in the post office I built for them to sort letters. 🙂
Fantastic poem, Bill! Makes me want to go read a LOT more William Stafford. I hear his son ain’t too shabby either.
I have a few books you can borrow.
Your piece inspired it, Kevin. Thanks for that.
So nice! I used to teach Stafford because he was accessible to non-poets. As are your poems, accessible and beautiful. Love the last verse.
Wow, thanks so much for the compliment. Greatly appreciated.
This is so good. That all our ashes
should be in a place where the stones always shine!
David Lehman is another one who wrote a poem day for years. He published those in books named after newspapers such as The Evening Sun. I don’t know how those guys did it. I’m not even able to keep up on this month-long challenge.
I don’t either, Tom! 30 days is tough enough.
Great poem. Esp love those last three lines!