For whirlwinds and bonfires, from The Burial of the Count of Orgaz & Other Poems, by Pablo Picasso.
from 5 July 1937 / by Pablo Picasso
livid festoon stars on the sleeve lilacs of her corsage homage of the almond green sigh of courage
Month: March 2016
DPF / Ryan
For color and light, from The Best of It.
from Every Painting by Chagall / by Kay Ryan
every air fish, smudged Russian,
red horse, yellow chicken, assumes
its position not actually beside
but in some friendly distribution
DPF / Shakespeare
For the tenth muse and the eleventh, from The Tempest (1610-1611).
from The Tempest / by William Shakespeare
PROSPERO
…Dearest Ariel,
I’ll set thee free for this.
DPF / Glück
For wisdom, from The House on Marshland (1971).
from The Magi / by Louise Glück
Toward world’s end, through the bare
beginnings of winter, they are traveling again
DPF / Kocot
For flocks of angels, from Soul in Space, by Noelle Kocot.
from This is Your Life / by Noelle Kocot
Then, just like that, a devoted silence
Dissolved into the night like a flock of angels.
What more could I have wanted?
DPF / Eliot
For a change of scenery, perhaps a spring track meet in the rain in a distant city, from Four Quartets.
from East Coker: III / by T. S. Eliot
As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on
darkness,
And we know that the hills and trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing façade are all being rolled away —
DPF / Ryan
For delay, from The Best of It.
from Grazing Horses / by Kay Ryan
Sometimes the
green pasture
of the mind
tilts abruptly.
DPF / Berryman
For one of the dearest, from 77 Dream Songs.
from Dream Song #30 / by John Berryman
& I took up a pencil;
like this I’m longing with
DPF / Mackey
For ghosts I have known, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Ghost of a Trance / by Nathaniel Mackey
It was a ghost of a trance. I was a
guest of the trance. What went on we
blamed on the ghost…
DPF / Wright
For rivers and CAPT S., from poetryfoundation.org.
from Somewhere between here and Belen / by Jay Wright
Think now of the intimate authority of La Candelaria,
the Sunday morning concert,
the walk through the abandoned streets,
where all was an occasion of Bogotá,
a memory of Mazatlán
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 