Mary Oliver: Sept. 10, 1935 – Jan. 17, 2019

No one has heard of Mary Oliver, because Americans can’t be bothered with poetry. I thought she lived in Florida, for the bulk of her life, because I know only a few of her poems; those that touch on Florida. You can find the details of her life elsewhere.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life? [final couplet from “The Summer Day”]

Her poem “When Death Comes” is being remembered, which is appropriate. I wouldn’t have heard of her passing, without someone doing exactly that.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

At Black Water” always affected my view of alligators.

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One thought on “Mary Oliver: Sept. 10, 1935 – Jan. 17, 2019

  1. Of course alligators aren’t “bronze” or even the brown of oiled bronze. Alligators are black. But you have to give a poet some leeway.

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