My Alexandria by Mark Doty

This isn’t a new release, but it’s worth a reread. My Alexandria by Mark Doty was published in 1993. But it’s timeless. The poems are vulnerable and human. They force the reader to slow down and stay with Doty in the moment. The language is sensuous and rich. The sentiments are thoughtful. The phrases are long and paced. The images are strong. These poems are just well written and gorgeous. Buy here.

From “Demolition”

The intact facade’s now almost black

in the rain; all day they’ve torn at the back

of the building, “the oldest concrete structure

in New England,” the newspaper said. By afternoon

when the backhoe claw appears above

three stories of columns and cornices,

the crowd beneath their massed umbrellas cheer.

Suddenly the stairs seem to climb down themselves, . . .

From “Fog”

The crested iris by the front gate waves

its blue flags three days, exactly,

then they vanish. The peony buds’

tight wrappings are edged crimson;

when they open, a little blood-color

will ruffle at the heart of the flounced,

unbelievable white. Three weeks after the test,

the vial filled from the crook

of my elbow, I’m seeing blood everywhere: . . .

From “Difference” (a poem about a school of jellyfish):

. . . This submarine opera’s

all subterfuge and disguise,

it’s plot a fabulous tangle

of hiding and recognition:

nothing but trope,

nothing but something

forming itself into figures

then refiguring,

sheer ectoplasm

recognizable only as the stuff

of metaphor. What can words do

but link what we know

to what we don’t

and so form a shape? . . .