The morning was clear
And I could have wished the taxi ride
From the airport longer, a week
Of that comfort and postponement
Would not have been too much.
I did not know what to do
When my mother opened the door.
She was a worn curtain.
She was a Trojan heroine.
The sky resembled a still lake surface.
The roses were bright but ended early.
This is the ending of the year.
Cities surround us, they shimmer
Under different names.
My mother's hair has not turned white.
The roses were bright but ended early.

from 'The Burnt Pages'

Writing of his fourth collection in the same review, Richard Tillinghast said: 'John Ash is a greatly gifted poet who moves easily from the hieratic to the demotic.' And John Ashbery has spoken of his poetry as 'resonant with gorgeous imagery that distracts one from the super-lucid, rational argument that quietly continues to assert itself. It seems both familiar and strange, noble and funny, romantic and level-headed.' Among contemporary British poets he is distinguished for his wit, his formal and thematic ambition, and his Byzantine range.