I wouldn’t write at
all if it weren’t for myriad writers before me whose works showed me what was
possible. The poems of this series are small offerings of respect, of thanks,
to those muses. – Brian Beatty
Ruth Stone
Less well known was the old woman
who died in a shoe.
Of the loneliness of the mountain.
Before the smell, nobody knew.
Grown children one at a time
had pursued their bliss with such fury
doors flew off hinges to let in
like a cold dog this sadder, truer air.
Worried neighbors kept their distance
for rhyme and for reasons of their own.
– Brian Beatty
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Brian's most recent collections of poetry are Dust and Stars: Miniatures and Brazil, Indiana. Don't miss Brian's columns on the great poets: insert your email address in the "Follow By Email" box to the right of this article and you'll be notified every time a new article appears.
What I appreciate about Ruth Stone's poetry is the distinctly, consistently personal tone of it.
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