what falls away is always. and is near.

Theodore Roethke
b. May 25, 1908 -d. August 1, 1963

The Reckoning
All profits disappear: the gain
Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
And now grim digits of old pain
Return to litter up our home.

We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
For all our scratching on the pad,
We cannot trace the error down.

What we are seeking is a fare
One way, a chance to be secure:
The lack that keeps us what we are,
The penny that usurps the poor.
Theodore Roethke


at present, there's no big "roethke industry" cranking out phd's & dissertations by the hundreds. in fact, he's kind of disappeared from any intelligent discourse about poetry & poetics in america. there was a time when he was a huge presence in that world. most of us remember him from his villanelle, "the waking,"('i wake to sleep & take my waking slow'). it was mandatory reading as far back as jonte pryor's class in 10th grade english. roethke was a nature poet & a natural one too. the former isn't a knock(tho it used to be)& the latter is clear in his rhythms & enjambments & word play. i imagine he'll come back into fashion at some point. his generation of poets was one of the first to be drawn into the college teaching profession, much to most of their detriment. but there's still a lot of work to be done on berryman & bishop & jarrell & lowell & roethke. there may even be a phd in it for someone.