Ode to Joy

I know almost nothing about James Krusoe. I was lucky enough to have a teacher give me one of his books, “Hotel de Dream” about 15 years ago. It’s some of the smartest, most beautiful poetry I know. Here’s one of my favorites:


For those still able
to feel it rises
in the throat until

we’re almost sick when
it finally gets there
so by then it’s got

to be pushed back
the little chute we toss
our dead things down

like any road where
animals not terribly
different from ourselves

have stopped to think
about their tiny worlds
and in the process are

so much preoccupied you
couldn’t even call what
happens next an accident


One thought on “Ode to Joy

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