For travels and side trips, from Day by Day.

from Ulysses and Circe / by Robert Lowell

What is more uxorious than waking at five
with the sun and three hours free?

For Emily Brontë and things we see through, from Glass, Irony and God.

from The Glass Essay / by Anne Carson

But it has no name.
It is transparent.
Sometimes she calls it Thou.

For nature, from Worshipful Company of Fletchers.

from Back to Nature / by James Tate

When you roll over never let your body touch the ground.

For May Day, from Sapphics Against Anger and Other Poems.

from Waiting for the Storm / by Dr. Timothy Steele

And, moment by moment, felt

The sand at my feet grow colder,
The damp air chill and spread.
Then the first raindrops sounded
On the hull above my head.

For Day 25, a controversial girl, from Transformations.

from Rumpelstiltskin / by Anne Sexton

She wept,
of course, huge aquamarine tears.
The door opened and in popped a dwarf.

For Day 19 of National Poetry Month, from Up Country. I had the pleasure of hearing Kumin read at the Key West Literary Seminar in January of 2010.

from The Horses / by Maxine Kumin

It has turned to snow in the night.
The horses have put on
their long fur stockings
and they are wearing
fur capes with high necks

For Day 18, from a departed master and teacher, from Departures.

from Variations on a Text by Vallejo / by Donald Justice

And I think it will be a Sunday because today,
When I took out this paper and began write,
Never before had anything looked so blank,
My life, these words, the paper, the gray Sunday

For Day 16, from The Complete Poems 1926-1979.

from The Man-Moth / by Elizabeth Bishop

Each night he must
be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.
Just as the ties recur beneath his train, these underlie
his rushing brain.

For Day 7 of National Poetry Month, from poetryfoundation.org.

from A Poem for Painters / by John Wieners (1934-2002)