My Life Was the Size of My Life My life was the size of my life. Its rooms were room-sized, its soul was the size of a soul. In its background, mitochondria hummed, above it sun, clouds, snow, the transit of stars and planets. It rode elevators, bullet trains, various airplanes, a donkey. It wore socks, shirts, its own ears and nose. It ate, it slept, it opened and closed its hands, its windows. Others, I know, had lives larger. Others, I know, had lives shorter. The depth of lives, too, is different. There were times my life and I made jokes together. There were times we made bread. Once, I grew moody and distant. I told my life I would like some time, I would like to try seeing others. In a week, my empty suitcase and I returned. I was hungry, then, and my life, my life, too, was hungry, we could not keep our hands off our clothes on our tongues from First appeared in The New Yorker. From The Beauty (NY: Knopf, 2015) by Jane Hirshfield. Copyright © 2015 by Jane Hirshfield. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Notes on “My Life Was the Size of My Life“ [caption id="attachment_99736" align="alignleft" width="175"]Poet’s Notes:
Some poems take a little detective work on the reader’s part to figure out. This poem is looking at exactly what it appears to be looking at: the shape and course of a life, its strangeness, its meandering, its individual singularity and also its embeddedness in the shared and larger life of others, of culture, era, and planet. At the time I wrote “My Life Was the Size of My Life,” I had begun to feel more keenly the way that my personal story had to some degree taken its shape and arc. Things might still come to surprise me—the unexpected is inevitable in any day—but many choices have been written in indelible ink. Still, do not let the past tense here mislead—what is said in a poem is always this moment’s experience. Hunger and Eros are lifelong companions. Our lives seduce us back into the living through of them. The world seduces us back into the world.

I am so glad you open it up with one of my favorite people too. Jane is a beauty to behold especially how she sees poetry. Secondly, I love the comfort that this blog brings. Often good blog is good for change and poetry. I have to ask, Can you make a space where I can share my poetry and get it up to where everyone will be inclusive. I will love to hear from you. Or how can I contribute if it is possible. Thanks
I am so glad you open it up with one of my favorite people too. Jane is a beauty to behold especially how she sees poetry. Secondly, I love the comfort that this blog brings. Often good blog is good for change and poetry. I have to ask, Can you make a space where I can share my poetry and get it up to where everyone will be inclusive. I will love to hear from you. Or how can I contribute if it is possible. Thanks
Hi, Rebecca Foust — I enjoy your weekly poetry posts very much — in fact, they’re the primary reason I subscribe to this newsletter. Thanks!
Hi, Rebecca Foust — I enjoy your weekly poetry posts very much — in fact, they’re the primary reason I subscribe to this newsletter. Thanks!