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The summer demands and takes away too much. /But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes
John Ashbery
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John Ashbery
Age: 90 †
Born: 1927
Born: July 28
Died: 2017
Died: September 3
Journalist
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Rochester
New York
G'on Ashberi
John Ashberry
Jonas Barry
Jon Asshuberī
John Lawrence Ashbery
John Ashbery
Gives
Takes
Away
Night
Reticent
Giving
Reserved
Demands
Much
Summer
Demand
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Part of the strength of Pollock and Rothko's art, in fact, is this doubt as to whether art may be there at all.
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The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be.
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Things can harden meaningfully in the moment of indecision
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Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.
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A perfect example of the new republic's urge to drape itself with the togas of classical respectability.
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I tried each thing, only some were immortal and free.
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And the way Though discontinuous, and intermittent, sometimes Not heard of for years at a time, did, Nonetheless, move up, although, to his surprise It was inside the house, And always getting narrower.
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The ellipse is as aimless as that, Stretching invisibly into the future so as to reappear In our present. Its flexing is its account, Return to the point of no return.
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I listen to music a great deal. In a way, it's trying to express things that can't be expressed in words. That's something that interests me, too. Even though I use words to express myself, I am trying to, it seems to me, get beyond that.
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To the poet as a basement quilt, but perhaps To some reader a latticework of regrets.
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And just as there are no words for the surface, that is, No words to say what it really is, that it is not Superficial but a visible core, then there is No way out of the problem of pathos vs. experience.
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Life is not at all what you might think it to be A simple tale where each thing has its history It's much more than its scuffle and anything goes Both evil and good, subject to the same laws.
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