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Even in Quiet Places: Poems
This book brings together four privately printed chapbooks and offers them to the general public in one volume. All the poems are in William Stafford's familiar, reflective voice, and some had been freshly typed at the time of Stafford's death in August of 1993. The book is hospitable to a full range of experiences, moods, stunts with language, tones, expressive landmarks, and intimacies with the universe. Long considered a major voice in twentieth century American poetry, William Stafford is also one of our nation's most popular poets.
- GenresPoetry
118 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1996
9 people are currently reading
160 people want to read
About the author
William Stafford
190 books127 followersWilliam Edgar Stafford was an American poet and pacifist, and the father of poet and essayist Kim Stafford. He and his writings are sometimes identified with the Pacific Northwest.
In 1970, he was named Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, a position that is now known as Poet Laureate. In 1975, he was named Poet Laureate of Oregon; his tenure in the position lasted until 1990. In 1980, he retired from Lewis & Clark College but continued to travel extensively and give public readings of his poetry. In 1992, he won the Western States Book Award for lifetime achievement in poetry.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William...
In 1970, he was named Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, a position that is now known as Poet Laureate. In 1975, he was named Poet Laureate of Oregon; his tenure in the position lasted until 1990. In 1980, he retired from Lewis & Clark College but continued to travel extensively and give public readings of his poetry. In 1992, he won the Western States Book Award for lifetime achievement in poetry.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William...
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
April 30, 2011
I love Stafford's matter-of-fact style, his drawing upon the natural world, and his profound everyday wisdom.
One of my favorites:
Stray Moments
We used to ask --- remember? We said,
"...our daily bread." And it came.
Now we want more, and security too:
"You can't be too sure." And,
"Why should we trust? ---- Who says?"
And Old-Who doesn't speak any more.
They used to have Thunder talk, or
The Rivers, or Leaves, or Birds. It's all
"Cheep, cheep" now. It's a long time
since a cloud said anything helpful.
But last night a prophet was talking,
disguised as a clerk at the check-out stand:
"Gee, it's been a good day!"
And we talked for awhile and I felt
that I wasn't such a bad guy.
We stood there looking out at the evening.
And maybe what we said, in its way, was
Thanks for our daily bread.
One of my favorites:
Stray Moments
We used to ask --- remember? We said,
"...our daily bread." And it came.
Now we want more, and security too:
"You can't be too sure." And,
"Why should we trust? ---- Who says?"
And Old-Who doesn't speak any more.
They used to have Thunder talk, or
The Rivers, or Leaves, or Birds. It's all
"Cheep, cheep" now. It's a long time
since a cloud said anything helpful.
But last night a prophet was talking,
disguised as a clerk at the check-out stand:
"Gee, it's been a good day!"
And we talked for awhile and I felt
that I wasn't such a bad guy.
We stood there looking out at the evening.
And maybe what we said, in its way, was
Thanks for our daily bread.
October 22, 2022
I originally bought this book to get my hands on the full set of Methow River Poems. I discovered them—and William Stafford—years ago, while traveling the North Cascades National Scenic Highway for which they'd been commissioned. "Silver Star" was the first one I stumbled across, and remains one of my all-time favorite poems to this day. The Methow poems are my favorite group within this collection, likely due to the nostalgia they stir up in me for the Pacific Northwest, but I very much enjoy the others as well. Stafford has a straightforward way of writing, that still stirs up imagination and magic and asks you think about what is lasting and important and meaningful and beautiful. He easily invites readers into "the quiet places," to be still and to pay attention to what they may find there.
November 27, 2022
William Stanford is one of my new favorite poets, specifically nature poet. I love how he is a pacifist and worked at national parks. He has a pretty clear, economical, and beautiful style. He made me want to go sit outside in silence and listen to nature or hug a tree but not in a super cheesy way (at least not to me).
April 13, 2018
It is apparently a common thing in poetry publishing for a series of chapbooks to be turned into a mainstream publishing book, and so it was with the last series of chapbooks to be written by William Stafford during his lifetime. The poems themselves are surprisingly punchy, demonstrating that William Stafford had not mellowed at all in his old age and that he was still remarkably fierce as a writer. This particular set of poems was lovingly collected by the late poet's son Kim, who wrote the afterword to this book and gives some explanation about the provenance of the book and his decision to have the book published by a regional press in Idaho rather than by a larger mainstream publisher. Presumably that means that these poems have reached a smaller audience than earlier Stafford books or his more popular compilations [1], but these poems are still the same sort of poems that one would expect from a late William Stafford collection, and if you are a fan of the poet that is a good thing, and makes this work of a bit more than 100 pages an obvious and relatively quick read.
This collection of poetry is divided into four sections. The first three sections are based on chapbooks that Stafford had written in the last three years of his life, ordered from the most recent to the least most recent: Who Are You Really, Wanderer?, Holding Onto The Grass, and History Is Loose Again. The last twenty of the poems are ones that were written by Stafford for the Methow River project, where Stafford submitted twenty poems, of which seven were chosen to grace signs in a national forest, and which had never been published before this time in any form. From the beginning the reader can witness the political nature of this poetry, with the author praising a "new language" that is without pretense, and many of the poems within show a similar political edge. Stafford plays with the thought of obscenity in "My NEA Poem," where he points to the way that claims of artistic freedom often result in the proliferation of profanity. Other poems deal with identity politics, like an interesting all-verbs poem that is written in the vein of translated Navajo. Another poem gives well-meaning advice for the chairman of any committee that Stafford is on giving his perspective in a pithy and effective way. And so it goes with reminisces, a look at the author's life as an old professor, and reflections on issues of family and creation.
This book is certainly one of the more pointed books of poetry in the Stafford oeuvre, but it demonstrates that Stafford was seeking to challenge himself as well as his audience through the end of his life. The poems reveal some interesting tensions, with a heart and mind that clearly wanted to grow and develop even as the author was nearing eighty years of age, and a body that seemed to be slowing down dramatically, which is sometimes exhibited in poetry that reflects weariness. Yet until the very end of his life, Stafford continued writing and continued struggling against the violence that was all around, and this poem is testament to his opposition to warfare, renderings of traumatic bullying, nightmares, declining morality, and even the violence one can find in creation with bitterly cold winds symbolic of the horrors that people feel the need to share. Stafford's work leaves the reader with an unsettling simplicity that hides layers of possible meaning.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
This collection of poetry is divided into four sections. The first three sections are based on chapbooks that Stafford had written in the last three years of his life, ordered from the most recent to the least most recent: Who Are You Really, Wanderer?, Holding Onto The Grass, and History Is Loose Again. The last twenty of the poems are ones that were written by Stafford for the Methow River project, where Stafford submitted twenty poems, of which seven were chosen to grace signs in a national forest, and which had never been published before this time in any form. From the beginning the reader can witness the political nature of this poetry, with the author praising a "new language" that is without pretense, and many of the poems within show a similar political edge. Stafford plays with the thought of obscenity in "My NEA Poem," where he points to the way that claims of artistic freedom often result in the proliferation of profanity. Other poems deal with identity politics, like an interesting all-verbs poem that is written in the vein of translated Navajo. Another poem gives well-meaning advice for the chairman of any committee that Stafford is on giving his perspective in a pithy and effective way. And so it goes with reminisces, a look at the author's life as an old professor, and reflections on issues of family and creation.
This book is certainly one of the more pointed books of poetry in the Stafford oeuvre, but it demonstrates that Stafford was seeking to challenge himself as well as his audience through the end of his life. The poems reveal some interesting tensions, with a heart and mind that clearly wanted to grow and develop even as the author was nearing eighty years of age, and a body that seemed to be slowing down dramatically, which is sometimes exhibited in poetry that reflects weariness. Yet until the very end of his life, Stafford continued writing and continued struggling against the violence that was all around, and this poem is testament to his opposition to warfare, renderings of traumatic bullying, nightmares, declining morality, and even the violence one can find in creation with bitterly cold winds symbolic of the horrors that people feel the need to share. Stafford's work leaves the reader with an unsettling simplicity that hides layers of possible meaning.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2018...
December 27, 2017
she
followed where it went, like a snowflake
in love, ravishing.
followed where it went, like a snowflake
in love, ravishing.
August 17, 2021
I love reading the poems of William Stafford. He feels like a kindred soul who spouts wise words, that even sometimes express my feelings. I get the sensation that someone is calmly speaking to me even as we are plummeting deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit. He reminds me that eternity is right now, no matter what is happening.
July 18, 2019
One of my favorite collections
September 10, 2020
One of my all-time favorites - nature-y, thoughtful, calming
February 2, 2022
incredible vibes.
April 7, 2014
Even in Quiet Places is a short collection of poetry by William Stafford (January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993). The poems are accessible to all, and there's an afterward by Kim Stafford.
Oregon is celebrating the centennial of Stafford's birth, and I've been reading and listening to a lot of his work. The local library has a handful of audio collections with Stafford reading his poems. If you cultivate an appreciation for Stafford's style, I highly recommend listening to these recordings.
While traversing this volume, I notched the ears of the poems I liked best. But when I was finished, and had a chance to look back over my most liked, their numbers jostled and shoved, all wanting to be recognized. Listing them all would be redundant, yet I fear having to choose which to overlook. So I will randomly choose three or four (five?) poems in no specific order.
* "After A Sleazy Show"
* "Distractions"
* "Playing the Game"
* "With Apologies All Around"
* "In the Library"
* "The Bent Over ones"
* "Pretty Good Day"
* "What Gets Away"
* "From the Wild People"
* "Cottonwood"
* "Ask Me"
Oregon is celebrating the centennial of Stafford's birth, and I've been reading and listening to a lot of his work. The local library has a handful of audio collections with Stafford reading his poems. If you cultivate an appreciation for Stafford's style, I highly recommend listening to these recordings.
While traversing this volume, I notched the ears of the poems I liked best. But when I was finished, and had a chance to look back over my most liked, their numbers jostled and shoved, all wanting to be recognized. Listing them all would be redundant, yet I fear having to choose which to overlook. So I will randomly choose three or four (five?) poems in no specific order.
* "After A Sleazy Show"
* "Distractions"
* "Playing the Game"
* "With Apologies All Around"
* "In the Library"
* "The Bent Over ones"
* "Pretty Good Day"
* "What Gets Away"
* "From the Wild People"
* "Cottonwood"
* "Ask Me"
October 9, 2012
Quietly and incessantly, these poems compel the reader to listen to "the voice [that] descends finer than dust or moonlight" (in "A Note Slid under the Door"). I share this sense of the "finer" world beyond our senses, and appreciate how palpable Stafford makes it seem as he alludes to "the little sound" (in “Being a Person”) or the "...something / beyond music" (in "It's Like This"). He anthropomorphizes such stolid structures of nature as rivers, mountains, and trees so deftly the reader is hardly aware he is doing it. Stafford reminds me of the mountains he describes in several poems: one who pauses a long time and lets the world reveal itself.
Two favorites are “Being a Person,” which is, in one way, a succinct parable of the creation story, and “In the Library,” which touches on the surreal:
You turn a page carefully. Over your shoulder
another day has watched what you do
and written it down in that book
you can’t read till all the pages are done.
Two favorites are “Being a Person,” which is, in one way, a succinct parable of the creation story, and “In the Library,” which touches on the surreal:
You turn a page carefully. Over your shoulder
another day has watched what you do
and written it down in that book
you can’t read till all the pages are done.
Read
December 13, 2012For me, this collection of poems by William Stafford is a retreat into silence and beauty - to those quiet places filled with light, sometimes white, sometimes rainbow-hued, of the reverence of nature, of forgotten places and ways of life.
The poems in the last section of the book are part of a collection called The Methow River Poems, written for the the U.S. Forest Service as meditative texts to be displayed along a wilderness road. Through this last collection, written right before his death, Stafford has us journeying through nature's elements, questioning our place in nature, and creating a longing for stillness.
The final part of the collection, a real treat, was written by Stafford's son after his death and before publishing this final collection of his work. In it, his son opens up a window into the private yearnings and musings of Stafford's inspirations - creating in me a feeling of wistfullness over the great loss of such an extraordinary poet.
The poems in the last section of the book are part of a collection called The Methow River Poems, written for the the U.S. Forest Service as meditative texts to be displayed along a wilderness road. Through this last collection, written right before his death, Stafford has us journeying through nature's elements, questioning our place in nature, and creating a longing for stillness.
The final part of the collection, a real treat, was written by Stafford's son after his death and before publishing this final collection of his work. In it, his son opens up a window into the private yearnings and musings of Stafford's inspirations - creating in me a feeling of wistfullness over the great loss of such an extraordinary poet.
January 10, 2008
I am an avid William Stafford fan, so I did enjoy this book.
It also has one of my very favorite of his poems in it. This "late" book is actually a posthumous collection of earlier chapbooks and a poetry series for outdoor signs commissioned by the Park Service. As a collection, I do not think it is one of Stafford's strongest books. I think some of his earlier books are much stronger. However, Stafford was a tremendously prolific and gifted poet whose archives are now being overseen by his son, Kim (also a poet). He wrote everyday and everywhere and unfortunately, no matter how wonderful you write every poem you produce is not excellent. (Which is not to say I wouldn't be quite happy producing some of Stafford's so-so poems). Nonetheless, I do hope that Stafford's work doesn't become diluted by publishing all his archival material. I'd hate to see him become another Bukowski.
It also has one of my very favorite of his poems in it. This "late" book is actually a posthumous collection of earlier chapbooks and a poetry series for outdoor signs commissioned by the Park Service. As a collection, I do not think it is one of Stafford's strongest books. I think some of his earlier books are much stronger. However, Stafford was a tremendously prolific and gifted poet whose archives are now being overseen by his son, Kim (also a poet). He wrote everyday and everywhere and unfortunately, no matter how wonderful you write every poem you produce is not excellent. (Which is not to say I wouldn't be quite happy producing some of Stafford's so-so poems). Nonetheless, I do hope that Stafford's work doesn't become diluted by publishing all his archival material. I'd hate to see him become another Bukowski.
February 12, 2010
Having read and enjoyed Stafford's work in various anthologies and compilations, I found this volume disappointing. It contains some lovely gems, but the collection itself has a dreary, lugubrious and, at times, morbid flavor--written by a poet who perhaps was obsessing a bit too much over his twilight years.
October 25, 2015
Some of William Stafford's poetry in this book is enjoyable and some is so inscrutable that I wondered how it got published and why he is so lauded as a poet. He is the great influencer of one of my most favorite poets, Naomi Shihab Nye, so I expected to love his poetry as much as hers, but I see little relationship between their poems. I still love Nye far more than Stafford.
June 11, 2007
This is one of Stafford's best volumes of poetry. I loaned it to someone for a day, and that person had it stolen from them in a doctor's office. I hope the person who stole it enjoys it as much as I do. I have since replaced my copy, because it is so good.
July 9, 2010
Written toward the end of his life and published a few years after his death, the collection provides somber yet fascinating outlooks on the journeys one take in life. Stafford is an amazing writer who can take the often forgotten and bring them to the surface to remind us of the sublime.
April 13, 2011
A great collection. Many of Stafford's poems read like the voiceovers of beautiful dreams you wake up from feeling calm and blessed, like you'd spent all night drinking from the well of your deepest self.
March 16, 2012
This is a collection of four chapbooks from the last years of Stafford's life. Many of these poems also appear in "The Way It Is," but not all of them. It is lovely to read these poems together in chapbook format.
December 27, 2015
Revisiting one of my favorite poets. Stafford draws you in with his apparently simple lines and images and yet always finishes with a hit to the heart or the intellect. This time around I read the afterward as well by Kim Stafford and it was a joy to read in and of itself.
October 1, 2008
I first read this poet in the 1990s--But his poetry is like sunshine after a storm. There is a peace in his words, and a comfort to read his work.
February 11, 2009
Unquestionably, one of America's finest poetic craftsman. He is a careful and percise and, above all, a clear thinker.
February 26, 2012
The Methow River Poems really struck me the most. Stafford's presentation is matter of fact, but the poems in this section were wonderfully large, spacious both in content and concept.
November 12, 2014
This is an exquisite collection of Stafford's poetry. Enough said.
February 2, 2017
I never tire of this goodness.
April 6, 2017
Calm, but with a surprising depth, the poems here are some which I think can be enjoyed by any reader of poetry. Stafford's care with scene and language is wonderful, and the tension he elicits in even the simplest of exploration is wonderful to experience. For the reader who wants a relaxing and enjoyable collection, this is ideal, and there's a lot here to be wandered through and re-read, over and over again, as the mood strikes.
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews