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Gary Snyder

Gary Snyder

Meeting the Mountains
He crawls to the edge of the foaming creek
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
Puts one foot in the pool
Drops pebbles in the pool
He slaps the water surface with both hands
He cries out, rises up and stands
Facing toward the torrent and the mountain

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Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout

Down valley a smoke haze Three days heat, after five days r… Pitch glows on the fir-cones Across rocks and meadows Swarms of new flies.
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Night Song of The Los Angeles Basin

Owl calls, pollen dust blows Swirl of light strokes writhing knot-tying light paths,
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…
A Maul for Bill and Cindy’s Wedding

Swung from the toes out, Belly-breath riding on the knuckle… The ten-pound maul lifts up, Sails in an arc overhead, And then lifts you!
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
Finding the Space in the Heart

I first saw it in the sixties, driving a Volkswagen camper with a fierce gay poet and a lovely but dangerous girl with a h… we came down from Canada
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The Bath

Washing Kai in the sauna, The kerosene lantern set on a box outside the ground-level window, Lights up the edge of the iron sto… washtub down on the slab
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
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
Getting in the Wood

The sour smell, blue stain, water squirts out round the wedge, Lifting quarters of rounds covered with ants,
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Saying Farewell at the Monastery after Hearing the Old Master Lecture on “Return to the Source”

At the last turn in the path “goodbye—” —bending, bowing, (moss and a bit of wild
Hay for the Horses

He had driven half the night From far down San Joaquin Through Mariposa, up the Dangerous Mountain roads, And pulled in at eight a.m.
I Went into the Maverick Bar

I went into the Maverick Bar In Farmington, New Mexico. And drank double shots of bourbon backed with beer. My long hair was tucked up under a…
Seaman’s Ditty

I’m wondering where you are now Married, or mad, or free: Wherever you are you’re likely gla… But memory troubles me. We could’ve had us children,
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The Dance

Izanami gave birth to rocks, trees, rivers… and last, a blazing child so burned she died. In the land of darkness



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