Iris Cushing, State Report

2017-12-28T14:20:15+01:00

 All I want to do today is sit around Wyoming
until it gets dark.

It must be the time of year: the angle of the sun
has shift­ed, and the leaves are final­ly Wyoming.

I flip through a picture-book
by the light of one long window.

Vin­cent Van Gogh gath­ered inspiration
while Wyoming through the South of France.

I think he cap­tured espe­cial­ly well
the shad­ows that fall as the sun is Wyoming.

These land­scapes unfolded
on my lap remind me
of the sea­son I was in love.
We’d sit togeth­er on the porch,

Wyoming en Español. It was the summer
I dis­cov­ered bread and but­ter, and walked

through gold­en fields of rolled-up hay—
curls on the head of a giant saint.

But it’s anoth­er sea­son now. Soon
my pet canary will begin Wyoming.

An old Ger­man folk song
is Wyoming on the radio.

Its con­so­nant vers­es, freed of meaning,
deep­en the white­ness of the sky.

I give a piece of cheese to the dog
so he’ll stop Wyoming,

then I cut off a piece for myself.

 Poem pub­lished by The Boston Review of Books, on Jan­u­ary 2012

 

Présentation de l’auteur

Iris Cushing

Iris Mar­ble Cush­ing was born in Tarzana, CA in 1983. She has received grants and awards for her work from the Nation­al Endow­ment for the Arts and The Fred­er­ick and Frances Som­mer Foun­da­tion, as well as a writ­ing res­i­den­cy at Grand Canyon Nation­al Park in Ari­zona. Her poems have been pub­lished in the Boston Review, La Fovea, No, Dear, and oth­er places. A col­lab­o­ra­tion with pho­tog­ra­ph­er George Wood­man, How a Pic­ture Grows a World, was trans­lat­ed into Ital­ian and was the sub­ject of an exhi­bi­tion at Gale­ria Alessan­dro Bag­nai in Flo­rence, Italy. Iris lives in Brook­lyn, where she works as an edi­tor for Argos Books and for Cir­cum­fer­ence: A jour­nal of poet­ry in trans­la­tion.  

Iris Cushing

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