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 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 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.
PIA: from September 2015.
For rain, rain, rain which hides its face from us, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Cats Will Know / by Cesare Pavese, translated by Geoffrey Brock
Rain will fall again
on your smooth pavement,
a light rain like
a breath or a step.
The breeze and the dawn
will flourish again
when you return,
as if beneath your step.
Between flowers and sills
the cats will know.
For medieval literature and Irish classics and lines that remind me of the wells and springs of the Kentucky mountains, from Sweeney Astray.
from Sweeney Astray: 40 / by Seamus Heaney
The springs I always liked
were the fountain at Dunmall
and the spring-well on Knocklayde
that tasted pure and cool.
For Horace and Brutus and Sunday-night thoughts of posterity, from An Explanation of America.
from Part Two: Its Great Emptiness, IV. Filling the Blank / by Robert Pinsky
While for our children we are bound to aspire
Differently: something like a nest or farm;
So that the cycle of different aspirations
Threads through posterity
For the season and a beautiful autumn day at the cross-country meet, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Autumn / by T.E. Hulme
PIA: from September 30, 2014 .
For maps, from Crab Orchard Review, Summer / Fall 2014.
from Map Making / by John Glowney
Geography is blue mostly. Serene sheet,
azure mirror
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