Portrait of Russell Libby by Robert Shetterly, from his Americans Who Tell The Truth collection.
This morning, it comes: a dull, heavy blow that Russell Libby has died. I'm having a hard time expressing the admiration I had for this man and poet, so I'll let his words stand in stead.
Just as the Inuit have many words for snow,
in some forgotten language
there is a word for the sound of the south wind
as it pushes across the tops of the ashes
and catches in the pine trees just beyond.
The poem comes from his wonderful chapbook, Moments. More from the book and on Russell may be found here.
deep under snow
translated by David G. Lanoue
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