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Iris Cushing, State Report


 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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