It was published in The New Republic sometime in early 2002 (and may have been published elsewhere, as far as I know). It dealt with a day in the life of an older person, from when he gets up in the morning to have a bagel, thru the rest of the day, and relates the futility of it all, to be quite vauge. I wish I could remember more details of the poem; I know I haven’t given you all much to go on, and I’m sure what little I have given is totally worthless. Nevertheless, I hope someone will recognize it and let me know where I can find the full text.
Is it “An old life” originally from The New Criterion, 1995?
Here’s how it begins, I don’t think I can reprint the whole thing:
Sorry, that ain’t it! It was definitely published in The New Republic. This one is somewhat similar in tone, but not nearly so resigned in nature as the one I’m trying to remember. Thanks, though.
In that case, I would check his latest compilation book after his wife Jane Kenyon’s death - it would probably either be in Without or The Painted Bed.