DPF / Tennyson

And, nightmares remind me of mirrors and mirrors of Tennyson and Tennyson of the (fatal yet) essential moment in which she turns and looks directly at the world.

from The Lady of Shalott / by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance —
      She look’d down to Camelot.

DPF / Pizarro Harman

Nightmares remind me of Galway Kinnell. Then, nightmares remind me of poetry.

from Daughter Bird Bone Song I / by Michele Pizarro Harman

                         the scene is cozy
              except for the man
                               running from fire

DPF / Simic

Then, of course, there’s Simic with one of my other loves, those Greeks. Back to rivers, to the one where the moon sends only emissaries.

from Charon’s Cosmology / by Charles Simic

Once in a long while a mirror
Or a book which he throws
Overboard into the dark river
Swift and cold and deep

DPF / Strand

Moons make me think of Sylvia; but, since Sylvia’s had her turn for a time, here is one of Strand’s moons today.

The Prediction / by Mark Strand

That night, the moon drifted over the pond,
turning the water to milk, and under
the boughs of the trees, the blue trees,
a young woman walked, and for an instant

the future came to her

DPF / Steele

For my west-coast English-comp professor, one who teaches us, in many ways, to remember to love form, and an Angelino with warm memories of Vermont’s frozen embankments.  

from Joseph / by Timothy Steele

Vague winds cross, streamingly, its face,
Remote and icy and antique,
And to its light I whisper, Speak.