Temple Age by Lisa Russ Spaar

Temple Age


Sycamores phrasal, ashen,
strap, bi-chromatic,

this cross-hatched, argent patch of woods.
Respond with hard answers, please.

My season is upon me.
Green in there somewhere, yes,

even red, if I hash around?
Goodbye beauty, I might also say.

Depart loveliness, at last.
Passing by pallid fields,

I confess I dreamed of us.
Precarious weeks, these,

yet you never want me small.
Or parceled. Rather all.


Little Song


Who dies but once?
Evening bears the brunt

of incinerated prayer,
endless as a tale unsnared

by denouement, in closure small
as the smother from which we first bawl.

This wine, in sips, takes its measure
from whatever sober world it blurs.

Love’s an aortic nave. Its tears?
A mirror.

And sky? A shining, cross-haired dress
I’ll wear to earth’s address.

Lisa Russ Spaar
Lisa Russ Spaar is a professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. She is the author of four books of poetry Glass Town (Red Hen Press, 1999), Blue Venus (Persea Books, 2004), Satin Cash (Persea, 2008), and Vanitas, Rough (Persea, 2012) and the recipient of such prestigious awards as a Guggenheim Fellowship. Her fifth book, Orexia, will be brought out by Persea.

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2 thoughts on “Temple Age by Lisa Russ Spaar”

  1. The 2 poems are delicate and yet immediate and I like very much that they contain mystery.

    Also enjoyed the excellent and interesting look at Spaar’s work by editor Sharon Leiter. She does a fine job with the poetry section of Streetlight Magazine.
    Thanks, Diana

  2. He makes me laugh, but he also makes me want to weep. These are powerful works.
    And, thank you for the wonderful review.

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