Quotes from Stanley Plumly

And now each day seems, Like my own soul, farther and farther off, Lost in its light as in a dream in which I meant to ask you something.

Love, too, a leveler, a dying all its own, the parts left behind not to be replaced, a loss ongoing, and every day increased, like rising in the night, at 3:00 am, to watch the snow or the dead leaf fall, the rings around the streetlight in the rain, and then the rain, the red fist in the heart opening and closing almost without me. —Stanley Plumly, from "Variation on a Line from Elizabeth Bishop's 'Five Flights Up'," Poetry(June 2015)

Clouds, snow, mist, the dragon's breath on water, smoke from fire—a metaphor's pure being. —(1939–2019)

And I'm listening and thinking of the distances imagination travels sitting still, wandering without direction.

To a certain extent a museum is a kind of zoo, a presenter and preserver of what

In every room this is still your house, your history. And if in the morning I rise like a ghost, outside it is still winter and sun bright, and snow like the memory of a long rain.