If I had to look up every fifth or sixth word
so what. I looked them up.
I had nowhere important to be.
My father was unavailable, and my mother
looked like she was about to break,
and not into blossom, each time I spoke.
My favorite was The Iliad. True,
I had trouble pronouncing the names;
but when was I going to pronounce them, and
to whom?
My stepfather maybe?
Number one, he could barely speak English –
two, he had sufficient cause
to smirk or attack
without prompting from me.
Loneliness boredom and fear
my motivation
fiercely fueled.
I get down on my knees and thank God for them.
Du Fu, the Psalms, Whitman, Rilke.
Life has taught me
to understand books.
“Learning to Read” by Franz Wright via The New Yorker
“Everyday I Write the Book” by Elvis Costello
Words for the Year 
Perfect song for a great poem! ❤
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Franz Wright…. James Wright’s son, yes? “…about to break, / and not into blossom” becomes deeply painful I think.
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Yes, yes indeed. (Did you know they are the only parent and child to both with the Pulitzer in the same category?)
* For readers unaware, see James Wright’s poem “A Blessing” (shared here on Words for the Year on December 18, 2014) in which he writes:
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I only knew of Franz as the translator — with his father — of Hermann Hesse’s book, Wandering.
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