This poem feels like someone thinking out loud on a day when the world is a bit too much and strangely beautiful at the same time. I love how it moves from small, awkward human moments — like being dull at dinner — to these sudden bursts of nature behaving in ways that feel almost embarrassing to witness. The graffiti line, “MEMORY LOVES TIME”, hits harder than it should, like something you stumble upon and keep turning over in your mind. And the honesty about old heartbreak lingering, not as a wound but as something that shaped you, feels painfully true. The dogwood at the end is unforgettable: a tree losing itself in blossoms, wasting beauty without hesitation. There’s something comforting in that excess, as if the world keeps creating more than it needs, more than we deserve, and doesn’t apologise for it. It’s messy, tender, and very alive.
What a wonderful text. Very hard to capture the way perceptions bubble during a drive and how random thoughts and memories may indeed blossom into beauty, then be discarded. Thanks to you and the late, lamented TH.
This poem feels like someone thinking out loud on a day when the world is a bit too much and strangely beautiful at the same time. I love how it moves from small, awkward human moments — like being dull at dinner — to these sudden bursts of nature behaving in ways that feel almost embarrassing to witness. The graffiti line, “MEMORY LOVES TIME”, hits harder than it should, like something you stumble upon and keep turning over in your mind. And the honesty about old heartbreak lingering, not as a wound but as something that shaped you, feels painfully true. The dogwood at the end is unforgettable: a tree losing itself in blossoms, wasting beauty without hesitation. There’s something comforting in that excess, as if the world keeps creating more than it needs, more than we deserve, and doesn’t apologise for it. It’s messy, tender, and very alive.
a perfect explication of one of my favorite poems.
What a wonderful text. Very hard to capture the way perceptions bubble during a drive and how random thoughts and memories may indeed blossom into beauty, then be discarded. Thanks to you and the late, lamented TH.
Yes, Mary, his technique is superb, and the ending amazing. Are you heading out at all this summer?
another Tony Hoagland stunner!
So many to chose from.
I love this poem! Never saw it before, but now it's a favorite. Thank you!
I love how it moves, but especially the ending.
One of my favorites, "making beauty, . . . and making more."
Yes, and the perfect profligacy!
Poem overflows with sensation -- starts with visual & gets more and more physical.
I love how the poem moves, and every spring I think, Blossomfoam!
🌸💖🌸