The New Yorker: Poetry cover image

Arthur Sze Reads Robert Hass

The New Yorker: Poetry

CHAPTER

The Tree Dance

The lyric poem is always one of song, and it often is self aware. And in the american landscape, there's this eye that is a wee. There are limits to saying in language what the tree did. i love that that the tree is really active. Nd, the tree almost becomes embodied.

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