A Chrestomathy of Monostichs

Thomas Wolfe’s writings are so consistently lyrical, that it might seem needless to seek out and cull small samples of “found poetry”.  But readers and critics have repeatedly complained of a too-muchness in Wolfe’s unending foaming flow.  So there is some value in presenting just a few appetizer-sized samples, tastefully arranged on a plate.

In similar fashion, G.K.Chesterton’s polemical writings, especially the lesser efforts like Sidelights (1932), can be cloying if read straight through all at once;  yet they all contain individual epigrammatic gems.

The following are all excerpted from Wolfe’s posthumous novel You Can’t Go Home Again (1940).

The vine, rich-weighted with its golden fruit

~

Each spring, in that one tree,  he found all April  and the earth.

~

Ten thousand points of light  prick out the cities.

~

the golden nimbus of other lights, fog-flowered

~

at night, the whistles wailing northward  toward the world

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