I discovered A. R. Ammons in 1968 through his new book of poems, “Corson’s Inlet,” which turned out to be his third, preceded by his wonderful “Expressions of Sea Level” and the then out-of-print and unavailable “Ommateum,” his first book. I see that I now have fifteen more of his books on my shelf. He died in 2001, something I still find hard to accept.

“Anxiety”--from "Corson's Inlet"-- is so simple it hardly seems to be there at all, but it’s there, all right:

The sparrow hawk
flies hard to

Stand in the
air: something

about direction
lets us loose

into ease
and slow grace.

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