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At North Farm (audio only)

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John Ashbery
1927 –
2017

 

Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.

All rights reserved. Used by arrangement with Georges Borchardt, Inc. Audio recordings courtesy of the Woodberry Poetry Room, Harvard University.

John Ashbery
Photo credit: Lynn Davis

John Ashbery was born in Rochester, New York, on July 28, 1927.

About John Ashbery

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More by this poet

Honestly,

we could send you out there
to join the cackle squad,
but hey, that highly accomplished,
thinly regarded equestrian—well there was no way
he was going to join the others’ field trip.
Wouldn’t put his head on the table.
But here’s the thing:

John Ashbery
2015

Elective Infinities

Thirsty? They race across ampersands,
scrolling. He isn't sure it's his head.
There's a delay right now. Smoke backed up.
Ladies please remove hats.

It was all over by morning. The village idiot
was surprised to see us. "...thought you were in Normandy."
Like all pendulums we were surprised,
then slightly miffed at what seemed to be happening
back in the bushes. Keep your ornaments,
if that's what they are. Return to sender, arse.

At the intersection a statue of a policeman
was directing traffic. It seemed like a vacation,
halloween or something.
John Ashbery
2012

Bells II

For just as a misunderstanding germinates
in a clear sky, climbing like a comma
from rack to misunderstood rack of worried clouds,
now difficult, now brusque, foregrounded, amoral,
the last birds took off into the abyss.
Now it was just us, though shielded,
separate, disparate. It almost seems—

John Ashbery
2012

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