For Fall, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Autumn / by T.E. Hulme
A touch of cold in the Autumn night—
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
Month: September 2015
DPF / Robins
For cemeteries, from The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry.
from Still Life with Gravestone / by Michael Robins
The meter will soon expire, so move along, move along.
DPF / McGookey
For sleep, from Field Guide to Prose Poetry.
from Wish / by Kathleen McGookey
My wish was short — a blue mitten no larger than a dime, a wish so small.
DPF / Finch
For leaves, from poetryfoundation.org.
from A Crown of Fall Leaves / by Annie Finch
When autumn gathers, the tree
That the leaves sang
Reddens dark slowly, then, suddenly free,
Turns like a key,
Opening air where they hang
DPF / Teare
For writing, from Poem-A-Day, poets.org.
from When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy / by Brian Teare
trying to think and all I come up with is a texture without
ideas
DPF / Sumpter
For UFO’s, from Crab Orchard Review, Vol. 20, No. 2.
from Still Life with X-Files / by Matt Sumpter
He dreams what life had taught him to dream:
baseball, a yard in Rhode Island where the grass
holds the shapes of his feet
DPF / Bruck
For the love of horses, from Poem-A-Day today at poets.org.
from To Bring the Horse Home / by Julie Bruck
A single bed with blanket the color
of factory-sweepings will suffice,
each day shaped to the same arc,
because days can only end when
the lock slides free on the stall’s
Dutch door, and I lead the horse in
DPF / Darcy
For aural photography, from Ireland, and from poetryfoundation.org.
from Ansel Adams’ Aspens / by Ailbhe Darcy
To tiny Ansel Adams, newly arrived on this earth,
the sky is what it is, taut with its isness.
Some time before dawn, the section framed
by interior blackens and brightens and each tree out there
glows with itself, with the certainty of all Ansel Adams’
aspens.
DPF / Long
For Tutsis and Hutus, from Crab Orchard Review, Volume 20, No. 2, 20 Years: Writing About, 1995-2015.
from Forgiveness / by Alexander Long
I don’t know what it means, but I try to
Do it, and mean it, and I don’t know
What it means. How is that possible?
DPF / Kublanovsky
For the love of poetry, from Contemporary Russian Poetry, selected and translated by Gerald S. Smith.
from 135 / by Yurii Kublanovsky
The fate of verse is world-sovereign,
though the column it makes be short,
if into the mysterious, missing the manifest,
it’s spectral remnant is inserted.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 