I haven’t read a ton of Charles Wright, but here are three of his poems that struck me enough in the past for me to mention them here. I always get the sense he would be a great person with whom to sit in woods as night falls.
“Bedtime Story.” First lines: “The generator hums like a distant ding an sich. / It’s early evening, and time, like the dog it is, / is hungry for food….”
Oxford Dictionary, or whatever that means online, definition: “(In Kant’s philosophy) a thing as it is in itself, not mediated through perception by the senses or conceptualization, and therefore unknowable.”
“Littlefoot, 14.” First lines: “The great mouth of the west hangs open, / mountain incisors beginning to bite / Into the pink flesh of the sundown.”
“Consolation and the Order of the World.” First lines, capturing life here recently: “There is a certain hubris, / or sense of invulnerability, / That sends us packing / Whenever our focus drops a stop, or the flash fails.”