For my sister and brother-in-law and niece’s home, from one Irish family to another, and from Station Island.
from Remembering Malibu / by Seamus Heaney
The Pacific at your door was wilder and colder
than my notion of the Pacific
and that was perfect
For art, from The Best of It.
from Easter Island / by Kay Ryan
As planned,
a long chorus
of monoliths
had replaced
the forest
For many prayers for Florida, so that they can return to their music and flowers. From American Poetics in the 21st Century, edited by Claudia Rankine and Lisa Sewell.
from Year Zero / by Joshua Clover
Year Zero the mistakes have yet to be invented and music — well it comes down to inventing flowers.
For every day is a good day for Tate, from The Eternal Ones of the Dream.
from Quabbin Reservoir / by James Tate
I thought I heard a lute being played, high up,
in the birch trees, or a faun speaking French
with a Brooklyn accent. A snowy owl watched me
with half-closed eyes.
PIA: from July 13, 2016.
For mice again, from Dress Made of Mice.
from Hidden Dolls House / by Sarah Messer
the mother cried, Help me lift this kettle
off the fire, daughter, and the hired
man ran for water
For October-like gatherings, from The Eternal Ones of the Dream.
from Hotel of the Golden Dawn / by James Tate
It was clear to us that the real owners
of the hotel were spiders. They were everywhere
but you had to look carefully. They had ingenious
ways of disguising themselves, except for the
clerk at the check-in desk.
For journeys of all kinds, from Poetry, October 2016.
from The Boatman / by Carolyn Forché
You tell me are a poet. If so, our destination is the same.
I find myself now the boatman, driving a taxi at the end of the world.
I will see that you arrive safely, my friend, I will get you there.
For both are beautiful: the dirt beneath our feet, and the paintings of the dirt beneath our feet, from Ordinary Words.
from At the Museum, 1938 / by Ruth Stone
Outside, the great elms along the streets in Urbana,
their green arched cathedral canopies; the continuous
singing of birds among their breathing branches.
For dreams and cataloguing the wild, from Dreamtigers.
from Ragnarök / by Jorges Luis Borges, translated by Mildred Boyer and Harold Morland
A voice cried out, ‘Here they come!’ and then, ‘The Gods! The Gods!’ Four of five fellows emerged from the mob and took over the platform of the assembly hall. We all applauded, weeping: these were the Gods, returning after a centuries-long exile.
PIA: from October 31, 2015.
For pointy hats and black cats, from Poetry, March, 1926.
from One Time At Salem / by Louise Webster
She said that she could make a moon
And some folks knew it,
And if they didn’t mend their ways
She’d up and do it.
poetry, publishing, and mentoring
A periodic, open discussion of particular poems
a resource for moving poetry
from lined paper, to Royal, to Smith Corona, to floppy disk, to 1TB hard drive...it's all a result of the passing wind.
Writer & Visual Artist
Reading Around The World
A blog about books, writing and mental health
a journal of contemporary poetry
Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.
Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.
Rare Books from 1st Editions and Antiquarian Books
"I am offering this poem to you, since I have nothing else to give." ~Jimmy Santiago Baca
another site about the arts and writing ...
Fine traditional letterpress printing and hand bookbinding.
"We're all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen."
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 