I remember once I ran after you and tagged the fluttering
shirt of you in the wind.
Once many days ago I drank a glassful of something and
the picture of you shivered and slid on top of the stuff.
And again it was nobody else but you I heard in the
singing voice of a careless humming woman.
One night when I sat with chums telling stories at a
bonfire flickering red embers, in a language its own
talking to a spread of white stars:
It was you that slunk laughing
in the clumsy staggering shadows.
Poem by Carl Sandburg, undated and unpublished, found recently in the Sandburg archives at University of Illinois. Sandburg died in 1967. Hat/tip Adrian DeVore. Today: Frelinghuysen’s Columbus Day Sell-Out! (Also, DNC Chair Tom Per...
Carl Sandburg’s biographer, Penelope Niven, has passed away. In addition to Carl Sandburg: A Biography, Niven wrote biographies of Thornton Wilder and Edward Steichen. She began working on Sandburg’s biography near the age of forty,...
One hundred years ago, Carl Sandburg released his poetry collection Chicago Poems. To celebrate the centennial, David Nagler (the musical director for Wesley Stace’s Cabinet of Wonders at City Winery) has brought together artists to...
If you’re in western Illinois, get your visit to Carl Sandburg‘s childhood home in while you can — sadly, the Chicago Tribune is reporting that it might be impossible in the future, due to lack of funding: The Carl Sandburg Historic...