Life on Earth: Poems

by Dorianne Laux

Pulitzer Prize finalist Dorianne Laux returns with an insightful, compassionate, and spirited volume that celebrates the imperfect miracle of humanity. In her seventh collection, Dorianne Laux once again offers poems that move us, include us, and appreciate us fully as the flawed humans we are. Life on Earth is a book of praise for our planet and ourselves, delivered with Laux’s trademark vitality, frank observation, and earthy wisdom. With odes to the unlikely and elemental―salt, snow, crows, cups, Bisquick, a shovel and rake, the ubiquitous can of WD-40, “the way / it releases the caught cogs / of the world”― Life on Earth urges us all to find extraordinary magic in the mess of ordinary life. “One of our most daring contemporary poets” (Diana Whitney, San Francisco Chronicle ), Laux balances wonder at the night sky and the taste of a ripe peach with recognition of the sharp knife of mortality. The volume includes powerful homages to the poet’s mother and her carpenter’s spirit, reflections on loss and aging, and encounters with the fleeting beauty of the natural world. Transcending life’s inevitable moments of pain and uncertainty, Life on Earth instructs us in our own endless possibilities and the astonishing riches of the world around us.

Genres: Poetry, Nonfiction

112 pages, Paperback

Published June 17, 2025

About the author

DORIANNE LAUX’s most recent collection is Life On Earth. Only As The Day Is Long: New and Selected, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. She is also author of The Book of Men (W.W. Norton) which won the Paterson Prize for Poetry. Her fourth book of poems, Facts about the Moon (W.W. Norton), is the recipient of the Oregon Book Award, chosen by Ai. It was also short-listed for the 2006 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize for the most outstanding book of poems published in the United States and chosen by the Kansas City Star as a noteworthy book of 2005. A finalist for the National Book Critics' Circle Award, Laux is also author of three collections of poetry from BOA Editions, Awake (1990) introduced by Philip Levine, What We Carry (1994) and Smoke (2000). Red Dragonfly Press released The Book of Women in 2012. Co-author of The Poet's Companion, she’s the recipient of three Best American Poetry Prizes, a Pushcart Prize, two fellowships from The National Endowment for the Arts and a Guggenheim Fellowship. Her work has appeared in the Best of the American Poetry Review, The Norton Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, and she’s a frequent contributor to magazines as various as Tinhouse, Orion, Oxford American and Ms. Magazine. Laux has waited tables and written poems in San Diego, Los Angeles, Berkeley, and Petaluma, California, and as far north as Juneau, Alaska. She has taught poetry at the University of Oregon and is founding faculty at Pacific University’s Low Residency MFA Program. In 2008 she and her husband, poet Joseph Millar, moved to Raleigh where she directs the program In Creative Writing at North Carolina State University. She is founding faculty for Pacific University's Low Residency MFA Program.

Reviews

[Gregory Duke]

Not for me.

[Cheryl · Rating 3 out of 5]

“ I could be in love like this for the rest of my life, with everything in the expanding universe and whatever else might be beyond it that we can’t grind a lens big enough to see…”

Definitely spanning any topic or idea that has popped into the poet’s head, some fall flat and some are really interesting. I don’t get a good idea of the overall voice of the poet, and wasn’t a fan of an earlier book of hers, but worth another look…

IN ANY EVENT
If we are fractured we are fractured
like stars bred to shine in every direction,
through any dimension, billions of years
since and hence.What we are capable of
is not yet known, and I praise us now, in advance.

Salt
Since the beginning, salt.
Seawater we climbed out of,
what would later fall from our eyes
when we saw the yellow bells of Datura,
confusion of moonflowers hanging
over our shoulders as we roamed the new earth.

The Thermopolium

Even in 79 AD, people loved street food, all the young Romans
flocking around the sizzling terracotta pots, the stalls frescoed
with chickens and hanging ducks, hot drinks served in ceramic
two-handled pateras filled with warm wine and spices.
Their sandaled feet glimmered as they milled around,
waving hellos, smudging one another’s cheeks with kisses,
murmuring gossip, complaining about the crazy rise in the price of wheat.
…
I used to see the excavated people of Pompeii, frozen in time,
caught curled in sleep or kneeling, a couple fucking, though
there is one of a possible father propped in what looks like
an easy chair, a mother bouncing a child on her lap,
as if they’d decided in their final moments to be happy,
to go into the afterlife covered in ash, buried alive by joy.

Ode to the Territory

I’ve taken my country for granted,
its morning songs breaking
over the craggy backs of mountains,
its violet gloves of rain, its frayed fields of corn.
…
O wheelbarrows filled with red earth,
O horses threshing the meadow’s yellow weeds,
O ponds and geese and cracked dinner bells,
O sparks like stars flung from the trains’ metal
wheels winding, unbroken, past backyards and junkyards,
O expanse, O oceans lapping, O coastlines’ jagged boulders
holding in the sea, gulls turning above you,
the tin ceiling of night falling to its knees.

Third Rock from the Sun

Why are we not more amazed by the constellations,
all those flung stars held together by the thinnest
filaments of our evolved, image making brains.
For instance, here we are in the middle of another
Autumn, plummeting through a universe that made
us from its shattering and dust, stooping now to pluck
an orange leaf from the sidewalk, a small veined hand
we hold in an open palm as we walk through the park
on a weekend we invented so we would have time to spare.

Joy

Even when the gods have driven you
from your home, your friends, the tree
you planted brought down by storm,
drought, chain saw, beetles, even

when you’ve been scrubbed hollow
by confusion, loss, accept joy, those
unbidden moments of surcease,
the quiet unfolding around your shoulders
like a shawl, the warmth that doesn’t turn to burning.
…
As you would accept air into your lungs, without
thinking, not counting each breath. As you accepted
the earth the first time you stood up on it and it held you,
how it was just there, a solid miracle, gravity something
you would learn about only later and still be amazed.


Moon Ghazal

I can’t remember the first time I saw it, seems it was
always there, even with me in the womb, the moon.
It must have been night, above the ocean, making a path
on the waves, gilded invitation, the parchment moon.
Or the day moon, see-through-y wafer over desert,
caught in the arms of Saguaro, thin-skinned, heart-stuck moon.
Blue as new milk, aquarium water, Mexican tiles, blue as fingertips
in the cold, nailbeds quick-blue arcs, half-moons.

Life on Earth

The odds are we should never have been born.
Not one of us. Not one in 400 trillion to be
exact. Only one among the 250 million
released in a flood of semen that glides
like a glassine limousine filled with tadpoles
of possible people, one of whom may or may
not be you, a being made of water and blood,
a creature with eyeballs and limbs that end in fists,
a you with all your particular perfumes,
the chords of your sinewy legs singing as they form,
your organs humming and buzzing with new life,
moonbeams lighting up your brain’s gray coils,
the exquisite hills of your face…

[Matthew · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Psalm”, “East Meets West”, and “Wild Horses” are the stand out poems.

[Emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

This collection of poems blew me away--it took me a few months to read this collection because I wanted to savor all of Laux's beautiful words. Her poem on salt (I KNOW) made me tear up as I read it aloud to my husband. It is truly a succinct collection about life on earth according to one Dorianne Laux and I'm so thankful for her observations and skill at sharing them in her poetry.

[Surya V.n · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dorianne Laux ❤️

(1)
IN ANY EVENT

If we are fractured
we are fractured
like stars
bred to shine
in every direction,
through any dimension,
billions of years
since and hence.
I shall not lament
the human, not yet.
There is something
more to come, our hearts
a gold mine
not yet plumbed,
an uncharted sea.
Nothing is gone forever.
If we came from dust
and will return to dust
then we can find our way
into anything.
What we are capable of
is not yet known,
and I praise us now,
in advance.
—for us

(2)
Life on Earth

The odds are we should never have been born.
Not one of us. Not one in 400 trillion to be
exact. Only one among the 250 million
released in a flood of semen that glides
like a glassine limousine filled with tadpoles
of possible people, one of whom may
or may not be you, a being made of water
and blood, a creature with eyeballs and limbs
that end in fists, a you with all your particular
perfumes, the chords of your sinewy legs
singing as they form, your organs humming
and buzzing with new life, moonbeams
lighting up your brain’s gray coils,
the exquisite hills of your face, the human
toy your mother longs for, your father
yearns to hold, the unmistakable you
who will take your first breath, your first
step, bang a copper pot with a wooden spoon,
trace the lichen growing on a boulder you climb
to see the wild expanse of a field, the one
whose heart will yield to the yellow forsythia
named after William Forsyth—not the American
actor with piercing blue eyes, but the Scottish
botanist who discovered the buttery bells
on a highland hillside blooming
to beat the band, zigzagging down
an unknown Scottish slope. And those
are only a few of the things
you will one day know, slowly chipping away
at your ignorance and doubt, you
who were born from ashes and will return
to ash. When you think you might be
through with this body and soul, look down
at an anthill or up at the stars, remember
your gambler chances, the bounty
of good luck you were born for.

(3)
Blossom

What is a wound but a flower
dying on its descent to the earth,
bag of scent filled with war, forest,
torches, some trouble that befell
now over and done. A wound is a fire
sinking into itself. The tinder serves
only so long, the log holds on
and still it gives up, collapses
into its bed of ashes and sand. I burned
my hand cooking over a stove’s low flame,
that flame now alive under my skin,
the smell not unpleasant, the wound
beautiful as a full-blown peony.
Say goodbye to disaster. Shake hands
with the unknown, what becomes
of us once we’ve been torn apart
and returned to our future, naked
and small, sewn back together
scar by scar.

[BooksRgood · Rating 4 out of 5]

good funny, sad, real stuff...
Here are two:

IN ANY EVENT
If we are fractured
we are fractured
like stars
bred to shine
in every direction,
through any dimension,
billions of years
since and hence.

I shall not lament
the human, not yet.
There is something
more to come, our hearts
a gold mine
not yet plumbed,
an uncharted sea.

Nothing is gone forever.
If we came from dust
and will return to dust
then we can find our way
into anything.

What we are capable of
is not yet known,
and I praise us now,
in advance.

I NEVER WANTED TO DIE
It’s the best part of the day, morning light sliding
down rooftops, treetops, the birds pulling themselves
up out of whatever stupor darkened their wings,
night still in their throats.

I never wanted to die. Even when those I loved
died around me, away from me, beyond me.
My life was never in question, if for no other reason
than I wanted to wake up and see what happened next.

And I continue to want to open like that, like the flowers
who lift their heavy heads as the hills outside the window
flare gold for a moment before they turn
on their sides and bare their creased backs.

Even the cut flowers in a jar of water lift
their soon to be dead heads and open
their eyes, even they want a few more sips,
to dwell here, in paradise, a few days longer.

[Sara Everett · Rating 4 out of 5]

Book 2 of 10 on my #NBAward Poetry Longlist Reading Journey. Laux’s collection is one that I will take what I need and leave what I don’t. There is a lot in this collection that I will enrich my life with. For example, I loved the poems about her mother. But I’m going leave things behind, like the poem “Tulip Poplar,” and I won't turn to Laux for art that surgically explores the ugliness of whiteness and how to attempt repair.

I would describe this collection as 54 soft and sharp poems. In Life on Earth, Dorianne Laux mines her life experiences for gems, both beautiful and flawed, and writes about them. There are a lot of lovely catalog style poems and stanzas in this collection. Her inspiration clearly draws from family, the natural world, seasons of life, historical events, other artists, and movies. I think the poems read like answers to these stimuli, and Laux makes me feel like life’s moments are living things to converse with.

My Favorite Poems
- Spirit Level
- Singer
- I Go to the Mall for a Knife
- The Cup

Poems That Frustrated Me
- Tulip Poplar
- Smash Shack
- Mugged by Poetry (Anne Carson - fellow #NBAward honoree - gets negatively name dropped in this one!)
- East Meets West

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

You know how most of us try to avoid “going down a rabbit hole,” letting ourselves be led from one topic to the next without plan or purpose? Well, Dorianne Laux sees the rabbit hole and dives in. Many of the poems in this collection follow threads of thought from one to another. It seems random, but it makes sense. Take the title poem, “Life on Earth.” We begin with “The odds are we should never have been born” and move on to sperm, creation in the womb, a toddler banging a copper pot with a spoon, a Scottish botanist describing the flower that will be named forsythia to "when you think you might be/through with this body and soul, look down/at an anthill or up at the stars, remember/ your gambler chances, the bounty/ of good luck you were born for.” Laux is a storyteller sharing a tale with jewellike details loaded with plain truths. In “Peach,” she writes, “To think we can eat a sunset/connected as we are to the mud/of the earth . . . and in “The Smallest Park in America,” “They stand for a moment/under the stars, remembering/what it was like to be held/gently in a lion’s open mouth.” This is a book to be treasured.

[Rachel Lincoln Sarnoff · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sometimes, a fiction writer needs to take a break and read poetry. With Life On Earth, Dorianne Laux has published a book of poetry that reads like fiction – or memoir. This book looks back at Laux’s history and forward into an uncertain future, finding reassurance in how the micro reflects the macro; for example, a can of WD-40 that “releases the caught cogs of the world.” My favorite poem of the collection, “I Dare You,” captures the mundanity of aging and somehow makes it profound. It describes Laux and her partner, the poet Joe Millar, readying themselves for retirement by giving away their possessions and through that process simultaneously confirms the eternal resonance and ephemeral quality of life. “Our world is / shrinking, our closets mostly empty / gone the tight skirts and dancing shoes / the bells and whistles…This is the most important / time of all, the age of divestment / knowing what we leave behind is / like the fragrance of blossoming trees / that grows stronger after / you’ve passed them.” Just beautiful.

[Tom Hill · Rating 4 out of 5]

I can’t remember the first time I saw it, seems it was
always there, even with me in the womb, the moon.

It must have been night, above the ocean, making a path
on the waves, gilded invitation, the parchment moon.

Or the day moon, see-through-y wafer over desert, caught
in the arms of saguaro, thin-skinned, heart-stuck moon.

Blue as new milk, aquarium water, Mexican tile, blue
as cold-bitten fingertips, nailbeds’ quick-blue arcs, half-moons.

[Dree · Rating 3 out of 5]

This collection focuses on the minutiae of day-to-day life that we ignore. From WD-40, to remembered events from years past--things that seemed to normal and average at the time that now strike a touch of nostalgia. My favorites were Spoleto (a woman remembering her first trip to Italy and her first affogato) and Waitress (a woman remembering a waitressing job when she had when young, and despite her youth her feet hurt).

These are well written, but I found most of the topics to be just too ordinary. WD40? Salt? Maybe I am actually still too young to fully appreciate the extremely ordinary.

[Nancy · Rating 5 out of 5]

God I love all the body and sky here. The milk, the sap, the soft air. I love that the poems don't mind being quiet and live sometimes in houses.

I have been waiting for more from Dorianne Laux and so glad for this!

(I only wish the cover were an image of something less cute, more alarming -- because that's how these poems feel.)

[Katherine · Rating 5 out of 5]

Insightful, powerful poems exploring what it means to be flawed, to be wonderful, to be human. Dorianne Laux pays close attention, whether delving into the ordinary, or the sublime. Thank you, Ms. Laux for your keen observations. I loved each and every perfectly placed word.

[Antonia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful! I can’t get enough of Dorianne Laux’s poems — from the powerful to the painful, to the meditative and melancholy. Count me as a forever fan. She’s a phenomenal teacher, too.

[tonia peckover · Rating 5 out of 5]

(all books get 5 stars). Some of these went right through the heart. Gorgeous writing about ordinary life.

[Pat · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finding a poet I haven't read before who writes this well has made my day.

[Sherri (Harte Reads) · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5*

[John Caleb Grenn · Rating 5 out of 5]

🥹

[Mia Sitterson · Rating 3 out of 5]

some fun lines and fragments, but I just didn’t connect with this these (even the poems about nursing, babies, etc)

felt like there was a lack of feeling/emotional investment?

[Loo Pee · Rating 4 out of 5]

some have rather good writing, some are quite sentimental, some are just fine. might update w favs at some point.

[Patricia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some favorite lines from "Psalm"
And the buried / bulbs that will bloom in spring, pregnant with flower/ and leaf sin Prepare for my Radiance, Prepare for the Pageantry of My Inevitable Surprise."

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love these poems. They are witty, funny, smart, insightful, glorious, windy, curious, and joyful. All of these and more. I am so glad I have read them.

[Dienna Matthews · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bisquick and I never wanted to die are my favorites.

[Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Life on Earth, Laux is locating herself in her middle old age by discussing both the experience of aging, such as down-sizing her home, and looking back over her life at memories from childhood and through adulthood. Though tough, uncomfortable aspects of life are shown, this is essentially an optimistic and life-loving book. It would make a good summer poetry read. Not in the way that we think of light fiction for summer reading but rather that this book seems centered in summer. Fall and winter are familiar and acknowledged but the optimism and fullness of summer, of a life well-lived, characterizes this book. Life on Earth is like a hot bath. Life's aches and pains are included within it but it’s soothing and affirms that life is good and those aches and pains can be eased.

[Kim · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was my first time reading Laux’s poetry, and I really enjoyed this collection. While some themes are somewhat typical for poetry—meditations on nature and the night sky—Laux’s craft and voice are strong, and there is enough lurking tension in family drama and the shadow of climate change to pull you through.