By John Hollander
“Perfection is an extraordinary accomplishment, fairly in American poetry, and the perfection of a lot of Hollander’s paintings makes it crucial analyzing for someone who surely cares for the craft of poetry. yet in our fallen global we appear fated to price energy of perfection, and John Hollander’s poetry has proven a visionary strength simply usually sufficient to safe him a spot as one of many significant figures of our moment.”
Vernon Shetley, The New Republic
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Extra info for Selected Poetry
None people knew on the time, yet that didn't untune the standard of our cognizance. (So that one is to finish with the sound of the brook? ) One is to finish with the sound of the brook. CROCUS SOLUS A sigh? not more: a yellow or white rupture of the chilly silent iciness floor, the exclamation of such attempt. but unaccompanied through the echoing multitudes that desire surveys; one simply, and no matter if an twist of fate or an instance, too vital in its distinctiveness to be thought of very important for its that means. O, spring will come, and one time it's going to no longer, yet what we're to understand we are going to understand from the entire quite a few trademarks crying, out of the grass, vivace assai, and waving within the delicate wind, ô Mort. One swallow of water makes no summer time of earth. One drop of darkness isn't any signal of wine. One flower issues to not anything yet itself, a signboard bravely hung open air the signpainter’s. The crocus of all issues, mendacity alongside the river, that talk for themselves is yet one aspect of saffron or of snow. an indication? O, more … anything unsuitable DOWN on the POND One summer season night whilst the sky in the back of him used to be nonetheless purple with the is still of sunlight, and the small eco-friendly heron used to be making sponking noises from around the pond, he got here all the way down to the immobile water. He stood on the side and peered over the reeds in which the wind groped hesitantly, no longer quite a bit towards tune as clear of stillness. He observed rising from a shadow within the water, framed by way of the infirm brightness of what, through inference, was once reflecting the heavens, a head. He moved: it moved; he tilted his head towards his correct shoulder: the picture did, in its reversed approach, likewise. And so: and so; and extra: and more—until the rhythm of motion and popularity progressively started to slough off its fake resemblance to reason and impact, and ahead of the water darkened right into a under reflectiveness, the good-looking formative years discovered with an ambiguous thrill that it used to be certainly the pinnacle within the pool which used to be mirrored by way of the determine that used to be his personal. It used to be no longer tragic to find that he was once identical to whatever extra colossal than himself, whatever even much less available to his elicited succeed in towards it than a delicate fiction floating in water will be to a needing hand. It was once fairly comforting to be absolved of the accountability of taking up both wisdom or whatever critical within the manner of destiny. evening closed in at the pond, making the problem of the photographs deeply moot. in preference to physique The backyard is a really singular one. it isn't that it's tough of access—although one is continually informed that there's just one means in, there are in truth many—but that this contingent availability is of its essence. A public backyard, a personal park—each of those now not regardless of the opposite, yet due to it. This position is usually stated to include representations of the absent types: branches of the oldest bushes intertwine within the touches of marriage survived; vines include their props, now not with the lethal cuddling of a few ground-cover that has run to stifling excesses, yet with the previous grace of taking and giving help; stalks of flower push out throughout the earth, filling the holes they make and combining root and matrix into a component of flooring; the night air caresses the tender curves of the turf.