Poetry from Frost and other great Poets

Night Air

This is one one of my favorite poems for I once related to the teller and hopefully you will see how beautiful this poem is and love it like I do.

"If God is Art, then what do we make

of Jasper Johns?" One never knows

what sort of question a patient will pose,

or how exactly one should answer.

Outside the window, snow on snow

began to answer the ground below

with nothing more than foolish questions.

We were no different. I asked again:

"Professor, have we eased the pain?"

Eventually, he'd answer me with:

"Tell me, young man, whom do you love?"

"E," I'd say, "None of the Above,"

and laugh for lack of something more

to add. For days he had played that game,

and day after day I avoided your name

by instinct. I never told him how

we often wear each other's clothes-

we aren't what many presuppose.

Call it an act of omission, my love.

Tonight, while walking to the car,

I said your name to the evening star,

clearly pronouncing the syllables

to see your name dissipate

in the air, evaporate.

Only the night air carries your words

up to the dead (the ancients wrote):

I watched them rise, become remote.

BY C. DALE YOUNG