TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Introduction....................................1

Brief Bio/Pictures..........................2

A Blessing........................................3

Explication of A Blessing..............4

To The Muse...................................5

Explication of To The Muse.................................................6

Milkweed..........................................7

Analysis of Milkweed.....................8

Small Frogs Killed on the

Highway............................................9

Analysis of Small Frogs...............10

Autumn Begins In Martins Ferry

Ohio................................................11

Autumn Begins Explication........12

St. Judas.........................................13

Analysis St. Judas.........................14

Works Cited............................15-16

THE GREEN WALL

“The first book of poetry usually lays a mere foundation; with The Green Wall, James Wright built an entire structure for a poetic career.”

THE BRANCH WILL NOT BREAK

“The Branch Will Not Break is

considered the watershed of

Wright's career. Stitt called it

"Wright's happiest book" and

noted that "the book's title

indicates its major affirmation—the

faith that nature will endure and

continue to sustain man."’

SHALL WE GATHER AT THE

RIVER

"I was trying to move from death to resurrection and death again, and challenge death finally.”

For this extensive poetry project I chose the well known poet James Wright. I have read near to

thirty of his poems, and been enticed with almost all of them. Wright does not focus on one

particular or repetitive theme in his poems; he is not known for being a naturalistic poet, nor

a social poet, nor a sexually interested poet--in a sense, he is all of those and much more. Each

one of his poems is unique, dealing with personal issues as well as public ones. Wright is known

more so as one of the first contemporary writers of his time, and is put in the same league

with the likes of Slyvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop and Galway Kinnell. Wright’s poems are deep,

inspirational and moving and his words flow like lyrics; you can literally hear the music in his

voice. Poems like, “Milkweed,” take the reader away to another land. It makes his audience feel

as if they are in a faraway place: the wind blowing in their hair, dreaming and contemplating

their past and future. His writing is exciting and full of specific imagery, figurative and literal

language, Biblical references, and his usual free-verse writing. Wright also uses humor and

although he had a sensitive childhood--(a father who never approved of him, and a mother who

is almost never mentioned by him) his love/hate relationship dedicated to his homeland, state

and country can sometimes be humorous. Wright is a moving person, and someone who I would

thoroughly enjoy interviewing and speaking with. The imagery he uses really whisks the reader

away and pushes them to use their imagination. The adjectives and descriptive words he uses is

what really kept me reading. His characters seem real (and some are), his memories feel like

they are my own, and his free verses makes me feel like I don’t have to conform to any sort of

unnecessary or unwanted order. Even though Wright has a free-spirited side, he also has an

angry one. According to Karen Whitehill, “One of the aspects of Wright's work that so deserves

our attention is the way his development as a poet reflects the course of American

contemporary history. In New Poems (1971) he speaks in the voice of a grown man, often in

angry outbursts at the corruption and exploitation during the Vietnam war. His themes echo the

self-hatred and paranoia that accompanied the determination to impose and control in the

name of doing good, even when it led to the most appalling waste. "Man's heart is the rotten

yolk of a blacksnake egg / Corroding, as it is just born, in a pile of dead /Horse dung," he

deplores...” Wright is a man of many different ways of literature. His writing developed from his

early career of continuous form and rhyme scheme, to his middle and end career of free verse,

no rhyme and every characteristic of an influential poet you can think of. Is there nothing he

can’t do?!

Introduction

1927 A S E R I E S O F P O E M S 1980

James Arlington Wright was born in Martins Ferry, Ohio, on December 13, 1927. At the age of sixteen, while still in high school, Wright suffered a nervous breakdown and was unable to return to school for an entire year. Fortunately, however, he was eventually able to return and graduated in

1946. Although a year late, he progressed farther than both of his parents. At nineteen, he graduated high school and was enlisted in the Army. He was stationed in Japan during the American occupation. Wright is an incredibly educated man. He has received both his masters and his doctorates. He taught

at The University of Minnesota, Mcalester College, and New York City's Hunter College. His writing was profoundly affected by the evident poverty and human suffering around him, and it is beyond a doubt what has made him such an influential poet.

James Wright: Contemporary Poet

JAMES WRIGHT

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.And the eyes of those two Indian ponies

Darken with kindness.They have come gladly out of the willows

To welcome my friend and me.We step over the barbed wire into the pastureWhere they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness   That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.There is no loneliness like theirs.   

At home once more,They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.   

I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,For she has walked over to me   

And nuzzled my left hand.   She is black and white,

Her mane falls wild on her forehead,And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear

That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would breakInto blossom.

“A Blessing,” James Wright

In James Wright’s poem, “A Blessing,” two men encounter nature, beautiful creatures, and a

refreshing and calming sense of oneself. Off of the highway towards Rochester, Minnesota,

the men catch a glimpse of two statuesque Indian ponies. Drawn in by their dark, kind

eyes and surprised that they “came out of the willows” the men approach the ponies with

awe and reverence.Wright discusses thoroughly his take on the female pony:

“Her mane falls wild on her forehead/And the light breeze moves me to caress her

long ear/That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist” (19-21).

He relates to the pony in her beauty, her bravery and most of all, it seems, her loneliness.

Wright mentions the ponies loneliness in regards to each other; however, his happiness and

awe of them could apparently relate to his own. Wright takes great consideration

describing the ponies, and seems at home with them. His respect and tenderness in

touching and viewing the ponies gives a specific image throughout the poem. Wright’s

comment about their eyes paints a welcoming picture as well. He describes their eyes as

being dark, and full of kindness. According to the Norton of Anthology of American

Literature, “He often writes with particular feeling about the creatures of the world--

finches, lizards, hermit crabs-whose liveliness and fragility touch him” (2922). Wright is not

exactly known for his heart of gold and love for nature; a poem like this shattered his

usual reform of political and social concerns. Robert Bly, a friend of James’ and the

second man in the poem, “A Blessing,” recalls the night of the two ponies thoughtfully, and

discusses the realization and symbolism of the poems.

“Surrounded with that feminine presence, his anxiety over death is once more

relieved. The abrupt conclusion suggests two separate realizations: when he dies, he will

not simply vanish or disappear, because the human body contains something invisible and

strong that the reductive scientists do not speak of. Secondly, the Pauline and Augustinian

view that the body is corrupt, sinful and utterly impure does not fit the experience. The

image of stepping out of the body is complicated, steroscopic and ascensionist. At one

moment the image seems brilliant and sound, at another moment too hopeful and

somehow ungrounded.”

Bly explains the last three lines of the poem, “Suddenly I realize/That if I stepped

out of my body I would break/Into blossom.” (22-24) It is as if Wright is becoming one

with himself, and he is content and seemingly overjoyed to have shared this experience

with his friend, and with these animals. It must have been a glorious sight: the ponies in

the twilight of the night, their manes flowing in the wind, their bodies tensing up with

pure happiness and welcoming the kind visitors. Wright’s poem describes something almost

everyone can relate to. Joy and a euphoric feeling of being content with one’s

surroundings and simultaneously oneself.

“A Blessing” Explication

It is all right. All they do

Is go in by dividing

One rib from another. I wouldn’t   

Lie to you. It hurts

Like nothing I know. All they do   

Is burn their way in with a wire.

It forks in and out a little like the tongue   

Of that frightened garter snake we caught   

At Cloverfield, you and me, Jenny   

So long ago.

I would lie to you

If I could.

But the only way I can get you to come up   

Out of the suckhole, the south face

Of the Powhatan pit, is to tell you   

What you know:

You come up after dark, you poise alone   

With me on the shore.   

I lead you back to this world.

Three lady doctors in Wheeling open

Their offices at night.

I don’t have to call them, they are always

there.   

But they only have to put the knife once   

Under your breast.

Then they hang their contraption.

And you bear it.

It’s awkward a while. Still, it lets you   

Walk about on tiptoe if you don’t   

Jiggle the needle.

It might stab your heart, you see.

The blade hangs in your lung and the tube   

Keeps it draining.

That way they only have to stab you   

Once. Oh Jenny.

I wish to God I had made this world, this

scurvy   

And disastrous place. I

Didn’t, I can’t bear it

Either, I don’t blame you, sleeping down

there   

Face down in the unbelievable silk of spring,   

Muse of black sand,

Alone.

I don’t blame you, I know

The place where you lie.

I admit everything. But look at me.   

How can I live without you?

Come up to me, love,

Out of the river, or I will

Come down to you.

“To The Muse,” James Wright

In James Wright’s poem, “To The Muse,” the speaker seems to be trying to convince the love of his life that

she has to get through her depression. It is evident that she has either a mental disability or is for some

account severely grief stricken. This is apparent in that the narrator repeatedly says, “I don’t blame you,” as

if she has tried to endanger herself or someone else’s life, and he can relate with her proposition for

wanting to isolate, hurt or even permanently “solve” her situation. The poem flows lyrically, almost like a

song, save for the non existent rhyme scheme. The meter, though a little uneven, still resembles a song

sheet, and you can hear the music in the speaker’s voice if you listen close enough. Wright writes in a

tender, caring voice and throughout the poem brings up distinct memories shared between he and the later

named Jenny. He provokes passion and a feeling of sorrow for Jenny concerning her pain, and affliction.

It is not obvious until the last lines of the poem, however that Jenny has indeed killed herself.

“I don’t blame you, I know/ The place where you lie./ I admit everything. But look at me./ How can

I live without you?/ Come up to me, love,/ Out of the river, or I will/ Come down to you.” (42-48)

The reasoning behind Jenny’s depression can be read many different ways. I believe it has to do with

abortion, due to the fact that the speaker mentions “lady doctors” as well as hints at other clues.

“Three lady doctors in Wheeling open/ Their offices at night./ I don’t have to call them, they are

always there./ But they only have to put the knife once/ Under your breast./ Then they hang their

contraption./ And you bear it.” (20-26)

The most disturbing lines of that stanza, are the last two. What contraption exactly, are they hanging? Some

kind of tool machinery? Her unborn, yet slaughtered child? And what pain is this that she’s bearing? The pain

of a so called, “doctor,” cutting her open and ripping life out of her? The tone throughout the poem, but

especially here is dreadfully macabre. According to Brian Fitzgerald, who also believes Jenny is the victim

of an unbearable abortion (most likely due to societal pressure, as well a demand from the narrator of the

poem, who is conceivably the father of that unborn child),

“Such a dark, rich loam in which the meaning of this poem puts down roots. There is Eden and Eve

here (dividing one rib from another, the snake in Cloverfield, and the Milton reference: \"How Can I live

without you, how forego thy sweet converse and love so dearly joined.\") there is Orpheus (I lead you back

to this world), there is birth and disease and of course the muses, those three \"lady doctors\" who are

probably abortionists (not Doctors who are ladies, but \"lady doctors\", one a muse who cuts a cord -- and

consider another Wright poem in which Jenny \"left her new baby in a bus station can and sprightly danced

away...\") These are dark musings, the hint of the suicidal despair, that resolve in Wright\'s later poetry. I

draw a direct line between the desperation in the ending of this, the homage to the unresolved love of

Jenny, about whom he still had \"the east wind to say\" -- and \"The Quest,\" the dedication in his

collected works to Annie, and the balance with which it ends: \"And know the world immeasurably alive

and good/Though bare as rifted paradise.\"Two different muses, one buried in the dark, one resolved with

darkness.” However one views the cause of Jenny’s utter distress, it is clear that she made a decision that

she undoubtedly viewed detrimental enough to take her life, and the speaker must have pushed her into

doing it as well., or he would not continuously apologize, and tell her he does not blame her. Wright’s

motivation to write this poem seems sincere and touching, and once again he has brought the readers

deeper into his world.

“To The Muse,” Explication

While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,

I must have looked a long time

Down the corn rows, beyond grass,

The small house,

White walls, animals lumbering toward the barn.

I look down now. It is all changed.

Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for

Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes

Loving me in secret.

It is here. At a touch of my hand,

The air fills with delicate creatures

From the other world.

“Milkweed,” James Wright

The poem “Milkweed,” by James Wright has beautiful imagery, and involves memory and

hope. He writes in free verse--no rhyme or distinct rhythm to catch onto, however there is

a continuing theme throughout. Unusually, this poem is not about his distaste for the

actions of humans, nor his feeling of separation from where he is from, or his decision

for independence from his family as a young adult. Strangely enough, this poem is about

freedom and relaxation. It whisks the reader away into a dreamworld, and really makes

them feel something. Wright seduces the reader into acknowledging their own memories of

wishful thinking, and how much the past has changed. I can imagine him standing on a

hill top, the wind blowing his hair and clothes-not violently, but not exactly gentle, either.

“Milkweed,” is more naturalistic than societal, unlike many of his other poems. And in this

moment that the speaker is standing on top of this hill, it feels to me as if he’s on top of

the world. Contemplating how different things are now, compared to the times he’s been

apparently absent. It seems as if the speaker is staring at his childhood home, remembering

the farm animals that used to be in his backyard and even a love that he may have had to

let go of in his youth, but returned to later in life. The lines 7-10 seem to evoke evidence

relating to a lost and found reference. “Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for/ Was a

wild, gentle thing. The small dark eyes/ Loving me in secret./ It is here.” Perhaps Wright

forfeited-by misfortune-a woman whom he loved, or maybe even an animal he considered

a lifelong friend that somehow, in the poem, found him. It is not clear what exactly the

speaker has wept for, or what “is here” with him now, but it is something that can easily be

left up to imagination. According to Campbell McGrath, a fellow American poet, James

Wright (as well as Slyvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, and Frank O’Hara) “...belong to a kind of

centrist free verse tradition, not part of any school or Movement, a diverse array of

poetics occupying the roomy esthetic middle ground. The extreme camps of American

poetry, Neo-Formalists on the right, and language poets on the left, feel to me less

“American” than the center.” His comment fits the poem in that Wright really is not apart of

any “School of Movement” or even anything close to similar to any other poets. I enjoy

this poem because it makes me feel the words as sensations written on the page and takes

my mind to a faraway, peaceful place. I can relate to the Milkweed pod, which, when

ready for pollination, bursts open to release and expand its seeds which have grown full

enough to be spread mile and miles across flowers and plants, birds and animals and the

sea and sky. Wright entices the senses to feel free, as he always wished he could be, but his

past always seemed to interrupt it. Through this poem, the audience, as well as Wright, can

feel free.

“Milkweed,” Analysis

Still,I would leap tooInto the light,If I had the chance.It is everything, the wet green stalk of the fieldOn the other side of the road.They crouch there, too, faltering in terrorAnd take strange wing.  ManyOf the dead never moved, but manyOf the dead are alive forever in the split secondAuto headlights more suddenThan their drivers know.The drivers burrow backward into dank pools

Where nothing begetsNothing.

Across the road, tadpoles are dancingOn the quarter thumbnailOf the moon.  They can't see,Not yet.

“Small Frogs Killed on the Highway,” James Wright

“Small Frogs On the Highway,” is a metaphoric and symbolic poem not only dealing

with a physical metamrphosis, but also touching on growth and development in the

world. According to Professor Pat, an educator at California State University at

Northridge, “[Wright] uses descriptive and symbolic imagery to convey a sense of

transformation and inspiration.” Wright relates to the frogs initial response to cross

over the dangerous asphalt where “the grass is always greener” right? He writes, “Still, I

would leap too/ Into the light/ If I had the chance.” (1-4) Wright uses substantial

imagery and forces the reader to imagine themselves either being a frog, or putting

themselves in a frog-like position. When I read this poem I imagine myself lying on

the ground, watching the brave frogs try to cross the elongated highway one at a

time. I see the cars coming, and I wish to warn them, but I can’t--I’m helpless and

mute, and can only watch them hop to their doom. I feel this way, because Wright has

related this scenario to life itself. The frogs are the people of the world--people

aspiring to reach their dreams and “make it”. The ones who want to be doctors,

lawyers, movie stars and musicians; those who would do anything to make a better

life for themselves. The frogs resemble these people. And I, as well as Wright, are the

parents; the wise friend, those who care and try to warn the frogs not to cross. At

least not yet. It is dangerous, and not worth it. And when the frogs ignore our

warnings, the Drivers come in. The drivers are symbolic of all the evil people in the

world. Who will run over any and every one in their way. They do not look for small

frogs crossing the road at night. They look out only for themselves. I think the last

four lines of the second stanza are the most rich in symbolism. “Across the road,

tadpoles are dancing/ On the quarter thumbnail/ Of the moon. They can’t see,/ Not

yet.” It basically states that the tadpoles resemble babies and inside their mother’s

womb, they have no idea what dangers, failures and disappointments lie ahead of

them as they grow older. I think Wright subconsciously related a lot of his writing to

his father, especially this one, because his father never wanted him to become a poet

and he never supported him in that. Either way, this poem is very symbolic of growing

up in the real world oppressed and with all odds against you.

“Small Frogs on the Highway,” Analysis

“Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry Ohio,” James Wright

In the Shreve High football stadium,I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.Their women cluck like starved pullets,Dying for love.

Therefore,Their sons grow suicidally beautifulAt the beginning of October,And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.

Throughout his writing career, James Wright has had a serious love/hate relationship with

his hometown in Martins Ferry, Ohio. In some poems he loathes Ohio; and in others, he

praises it. In the particular poem, “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry Ohio” he simply admires

it, and explains how one can tell that Autumn has officially begun. The setting takes place

at a High School football game. Wright mostly focuses on the crowd, instead of the players

(the fathers of the football stars, specifically). They are all drinking beer, rooting for their

kids, and remembering probably what it used to be like when they played football. The

setting seems harmless, but Wright looks at the game in a different light. He writes football

as being very forceful and Americans blinding themselves to the harmful effects on

society. According to Marie Napierkowski, “Wright sees football as a violent game that has

become an American ritual-a much beloved one at that-in spite of the barbarism and

destructive nature it represents.” While talking about the fathers (which he refers to as

Polacks-meaning most likely dumb or ignorant) “nursing their beers on Tittonsville”.

Wright also mentions the boys mothers. “Their women cluck like starved pullets,/ Dying for

love” (7-8). Perhaps Wright is referring to the fact that these rough men don’t appreciate

their women emotionally or sexually. The mothers are practically starved for attention

because their men-the fathers and teachers of their children only give recognition to their

sons. The fathers are so focused on their offspring they neglect the women that helped

make them. The last four lines of the poem are particularly interesting to the poem as a

whole. “Therefore/ Their sons grow suicidally beautiful/ At the beginning of October,/ And

gallop terribly against each other’s bodies” (9-12). I think Wright is relating the fact that

because the women are uncared for, and the sons witness it on a day to day basis, the

sons fall deeply into a violent spell in which it is almost impossible for them to

overcome. Thus, the moral deterioration of Americans altogether, due to unloving

families. It is interesting though, how he writes such a simple poem that seems as if it’s

about a high school football game, yet it’s intertwined with an incredibly deep thought.

Saying football has aided in the destruction of America because of its unnecessary rough

contact, and worldwide accepted nature. Football, much like baseball, is one of America’s

favorite pastimes. Which essentially means every American involved in it is corrupt in

some way.

“Autumn Begins...” Explication

When I went out to kill myself, I caughtA pack of hoodlums beating up a man.Running to spare his suffering, I forgotMy name, my number, how my day began,How soldiers milled around the garden stoneAnd sang amusing songs; how all that dayTheir javelins measured crowds; how I aloneBargained the proper coins, and slipped away.

Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten,Stripped, kneed, and left to cry. Dropping my ropeAside, I ran, ignored the uniforms:

Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten,The kiss that ate my flesh. Flayed without hope,I held the man for nothing in my arms.

“St. Judas,” James Wright

“St. Judas,” by poet James Wright has to be one of the most shocking and interesting poems by

him. The very first line obviously grabs the audience the most, “When I went out to kill

myself...” That is al you really need to want to continue reading. The poem later, through each

line continues a story. It takes place during a war, and the speaker witnesses a gang of men

beating up a man, so he runs up to them and tries to save him. During his hurried rush to get to

the man-it must have happened so quickly- that he, “forgot my name, my number, how my day

began,” etc. The victim was the only thing on his mind. The poem is inspiring though, because it

is about someone thinking of another person rather than themselves.Human nature is to look

the other way, not get involved and let “nature run its course,” but this man-even though he

apparently was going through his own tragedy-still wanted to help. The victim getting literally

beaten by the gang could have easily been figurative for the soldier getting beat on a day to

day basis by everyone. Or, perhaps, this story could be based on true events. Wright was actually

involved in the war and stationed in Japan in 1946. Whether fictional or factional, this is a

truly inspiring poem. According to fellow poet and friend Robert Bly, “The poem is moving; at

the same time it is clear it is not a good poem. The transformation of Judas from a criminal

who did something despicable into a saint is too quickly done – it is as if a man were to claim

he dug a hole for one day and immediately comes out on the other side of the earth.

Kierkegaard and others have defended awareness of guilt as one of the most valuable

sensitivities. To say, however, that taking acts which increase guilt is a way toward sainthood is

to give impossible directions. The poem is really an attempt to bend together, with his

imagination, two ends of an iron bar – Wright’s conviction that he is in some sense a criminal,

and his conviction that he is somehow a man of good will.” Bly believes Wright may have had a

guilty conscience about previous decisions he made in his younger years. But it is clear that, if

Wright does indeed have a guilty conscience, about some former sin, he is eager to fix it. The

last two lines of the poem remind me of Judas in the Bible. “The kiss that ate my flesh...”

almost seems as if it is referencing when Judas betrayed Jesus Christ for money. It could have

Biblical as well as present and literal meanings. Wright himself comments on the poem stating,

“When I wrote [The Green Wall, 1957] I was twenty-seven years old. I could tell you the kind

of thing I had in mind. I wrote a sonnet called "Saint Judas" and in that sonnet I was trying

to do two things technically: to write a sonnet that would be a genuine Petrarchan sonnet and

at the same time be a dramatic monologue. I got that idea from [Edwin Arlington] Robinson,

who has a sonnet called "How Annandale Went Out."’ This poem is one of my favorites by

Wright. He sincerely opens up and explores a deep, relatable and emotional connection with his

audience.

“St. Judas,” Analysis

B r u n e n r , E d w a r d . " J a m e s W r i g h t : B i o g r a p h i c a l S k e t c h . " M o d e r n A m e r i c a n P o e t r y n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. e n g l i s h . i l l i n o i s . e d u / m a p s /p o e t s / s _ z / j _ w r i g h t / b i o . h t m > .

L a r s o n , T h o m a s . " T h e P o e t r y o f J a m e s W r i g h t . " E s s a y s a n d M e m o i r s ( 1 9 9 1 ) : n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. t h o m a s l a r s o n . c o m /p u b l i c a t i o n s / e s s a y s - a n d - m e m o i r s / 1 2 7 - p o e t r y - o f - j a m e s - w r i g h t . h t m l > .

H a i t z , G r e g o r y. " J a m e s W r i g h t - P o e m s a n d B i o g r a p h y. " P o e t r y C o n n e c t i o n n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. p o e t r y c o n n e c t i o n . n e t / p o e t s /J a m e s _ W r i g h t > .

F i t z t e r a l d , B r i a n . " To T h e M u s e A N = n a l y s i s . " E l i t e S k i l l s C l a s s i c s ( 2 0 1 0 ) : n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. e l i t e s k i l l s . c o m / a n a l y s i s _ p o e t r y /To _ T h e _ M u s e _ b y _ J a m e s _ W r i g h t _ a n a l y s i s . p h p > .

B l y, R o b e r t . " J a m e s W r i g h t a n d t h e S l e n d e r Wo m a n . " M o d e r n A m e r i c a n P o e t r y ( 1 9 8 8 ) : n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. e n g l i s h . i l l i n o i s . e d u /m a p s / p o e t s / s _ z / j _ w r i g h t / b l e s s i n g . h t m > .

James Livingston. "The Green Wall." Magill’s Survey of American Literature, Revised Edition. Salem Press,

2007. eNotes.com. 2006. 3 Mar, 2011 <http://www.enotes.com/green-wall-salem/

green-wall>

L a z e r , H a n k . " V Q R - T h e H e a r t o f L i g h t . " Vi r g i n i a Q u a r t e r l y R e v i e w ( 1 9 8 3 ) : n . p a g . We b . 3 M a r 2 0 1 1 . < h t t p : / / w w w. v q r o n l i n e . o r g / a r t i c l e s / 1 9 8 3 /a u t u m n / l a z e r - h e a r t - l i g h t / > .

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