For you and your other yous, if this is you, too, from The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin Poetry.
from Borges and I / by Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Willis Barnstone
The other one, Borges, is to whom things happen.
Month: June 2017
DPF / Huidobro
For sailboats and blue and birthdays, from The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin Poetry.
from Altazor: Canto III / by Vicente Huidobro, translated by Ilan Stavans
The sky is that pure flowing hair
Braided by the hands of the aeronaut
DPF / de Greiff
For hearts and moons, from The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin Poetry.
from White Moon / by León de Greiff, translated by Ilan Stavans
The vague piano notes …
From the forest an arcane aroma …
And a river, resounded …
DPF / Field
For driving eight hours today, and looking forward to dreams, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Nests in Elms / by Michael Field
With dream on dream of never-thwarted ease
DPF / Cummings
For rain, which we may not see again for a while, from Selected Poems.
from but the other / by E. E. Cummings
rain
fell(as it will
in spring)
ropes
of silver gliding from sunny
thunder into freshness
DPF / Greger
For one of my teacher-mentors from the state with the most beautiful name and from her new book, published today, In Darwin’s Room. A moment of parental carelessness to which some, or many, may relate.
from In Darwin’s Room / by Debora Greger
he wrote out his father’s objections
to a son taking voyage on a ship named for a dog:
Disreputable to my character as a Clergyman hereafter.
A wild scheme.
That they must have offered to many others before me
the place of Naturalist.
DPF / Cole
For elegant birds who may love summer as much as I do, from Middle Earth.
from Swans / by Henri Cole
For above we must have looked like ordinary
tourists feeding winter swans
DPF / Cummings
For if you want poetry that makes you smile, one poet is e. e. cummings, or E.E. Cummings, from Selected Poems, edited by Richard S. Kennedy.
from you shall above all things be glad and young / by E. E. Cummings
I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
DPF / Hawley
For our Sylvia, from The Collected Poems.
from Domina: for Sylvia Plath / by Beatrice Hawley
and in our generation
we have lost the trick
of knowing how to feed
those who never die
DPF / Salamun
For summer, when not everything needs to make sense, from There’s the Hand and There’s the Arid Chair.
from Flowers / by Tomaz Salamun
My great-grandmother was able
to make everything except shoes.
We carried bark.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 