For birds, bones, and wings, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Waiting Room / by Christine Stewart
We are waiting, grandmother and I, for the white bird.
The black bird grows larger above our heads,
Its immense wings spreading as it dives down
Month: November 2015
DPF / Kizer
For 42 years and a month ago, from poetryfoundation.org.
from October 1973 / by Carolyn Kizer
Last night I dreamed I ran through the streets of New York
Looking for help for you, Nicanor.
DPF / Kaminsky
For an amazing poet I missed in Iowa City by a few hours, from Poetryfoundation.org.
from Deaf Republic: 14 / by Ilya Kaminsky
thank you for my deafness, Lord, such fire
from a match you never lit.
DPF / Adnan
For brighter days, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Spring Flowers Own / by Etel Adnan
angels ate lemons
in illuminated churches
there was a blue rug
planted with stars
above our heads
DPF / Forsstrom
For Golden Geese, from The Star by My Head, edited by Malena Morling and Jonas Ellerstrom.
from It is so strange / by Tua Forsstrom
life becomes slow and strong
like Mahler’s Fifth
DPF / Kemble
For faith, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Faith / by Frances Anne Kemble
Better trust all, and be deceived,
And weep that trust, and that deceiving;
Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,
Had blessed one’s life with true believing.
DPF / Mueller
For good days, from poetryfoundation.org.
from In November / by Lisel Mueller
But when I wake up, sunlight
has taken over the room.
You have already made the coffee
and the radio brings us music
from a confident age.
DPF / Mayer
For balloons and lions, from Poets.org.
from Kristin’s Dream in November / by Bernadette Mayer, b. 1945
Frozen petals fell behind the red curtain
So slowly they woke me like a knock on door #7
DPF / Newman
For a week early, from Domestic Fugues, by Richard Newman.
from Bless Their Hearts / by Richard Newman
In a week it would be Thanksgiving,
and we would each sit with our respective
families, counting our blessings and blessing
the hearts of family members as only family
does best. Oh, bless us all, yes, bless us, please
DPF / Doyle
Another for the day, from Poetryfoundation.org.
from The City’s Oldest Known Survivor of the Great War / by James Doyle
marches in uniform down the traffic stripe
at the center of the street, counts time
to the unseen web that has rearranged
the air around him, his left hand
stiff as a leather strap along his side,
the other saluting right through the decades
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 