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Gary Snyder

Gary Snyder

Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout

Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
 
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.

#AmericanWriters

Otras obras de Gary Snyder...
Above Pate Valley

We finished clearing the last Section of trail by noon, High on the ridge-side Two thousand feet above the creek Reached the pass, went on
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Getting in the Wood

The sour smell, blue stain, water squirts out round the wedge, Lifting quarters of rounds covered with ants,
 1
Smokey the Bear Sutra

the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, the flying beings, and ...
 1
Old Bones

Out there walking round, looking o… a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed th… plucking, digging, snaring, snaggi… barely getting by, no food out there on dusty slopes…
Axe Handles

One afternoon the last week in Ap… Showing Kai how to throw a hatche… One-half turn and it sticks in a s… He recalls the hatchet-head Without a handle, in the shop
At Tower Peak

Every tan rolling meadow will turn… Freeways are clogged all day Academies packed with scholars wri… City people lean and dark This land most real
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Old Bones

Out there walking round, looking o… a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed th… plucking, digging, snaring, snaggi… barely getting by, no food out there on dusty slopes…
Kisiabaton

Beat-up datsun idling in the road shreds of fog almost-vertical hillsides drop awa… huge stumps fading into mist soft warm rain
How Poetry Comes to Me

It comes blundering over the Boulders at night, it stays Frightened outside the Range of my campfire I go to meet it at the
On Top

All this new stuff goes on top turn it over, turn it over wait and water down from the dark bottom turn it inside out
Endless Streams and Mountains

Clearing the mind and sliding in to that created space, a web of waters steaming over rock… air misty but not raining, seeing this land from a boat on a…
Milton by Firelight

“O hell, what do mine eyes with grief behold?” Working with an old Singlejack miner, who can sense The vein and cleavage
Kyoto: March

A few light flakes of snow Fall in the feeble sun; Birds sing in the cold, A warbler by the wall. The plum Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
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Meeting the Mountains

He crawls to the edge of the foami… He backs up the slab ledge He puts a finger in the water He turns to a trapped pool Puts both hands in the water
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Burning Island

O Wave God who broke through… Sea Bream massive pink and silver cool swimming down with me watchin… staying away from the spear



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