For small towns, fragments, and returns, from What Thou Lovest Well, Remains American.
from Reading at the Old Federal Courts Building, St. Paul / by Richard Hugo
That girl who laughed,
first trial, is teaching high school and she
didn’t know me when she said she loved my poems,
was using them in class to demonstrate how
worlds are put together, one fragment at a time.
For fairytales, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova.
from Lullaby / by Anna Akhmatova
Far off in the enormous forest,
Near the dark blue river,
There lived in a dark hut with his children
A poor woodcutter.
For work, from The Dream Songs.
from Dream Song #30 / by John Berryman
As a little boy I always thought
“I’m an archaeologist”; who
could be more respected peaceful serious than that?
PIA: from August 30, 2015. I don’t know that simple things exist after all; the more simple a thing appears at first glance, the more it lends itself to infinite camera angles, infinite thoughts, reflections, and points of view.
For light, from Mouth to Mouth: Poems by Twelve Contemporary Mexican Women, edited by Forrest Gander.
from Untitlted / by Silvia Tomasa Rivera (b. El Higo, Veracruz, 3.7.1956), translated by Janet Rodney
It’s something much simpler,
like opening a window and touching that luminous spot
bursting in the cup of your hands.
For the sky, from The Right Madness on Skye. Each day, the world is a completely different world, changed, as it is every day, by the people who are lost that day and by those who are born; the sky, in its never-exactly-the-sameness, teaches and reteaches this. Its singular fingerprint lives its whole swirling life in a day.
from The Clouds of Uig / by Richard Hugo
They never slow down and they never run out.
When one sky leaves, taking with it the rain
that couldn’t make anyone wet or leave grass
dry very long, another sky follows close behind
For a favorite poet and sweets, from Poetry Magazine, November 1981. Yes, this is the year I graduated from high school. And, prose poems, from a fellow Ohioan? Yes, again!
from Against Surrealism / by James Wright
In France, all the way down south in Avallon, people like to eat cake. The local bakers there spin up a little flour and chocolate into the shape of a penguin.
PIA: from August 16, 2014.
One of my favorites for teachers, from Poetry 180. When a student asks if s/he missed anything when s/he was absent, you might consider referring the student (4th-12th grade+) to this poem. Full poem here:
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/013.html
from Did I Miss Anything? / by Tom Wayman b. 1945
Nothing. When you are not present
how could something significant occur?
PIA: from August 21, 2015.
For river paths and daughters, from poets.org’s Poem-A-Day today.
from Daughter / by Jon Pineda
all the way to the broken edge
that overlooks the bend,
& hold hands until
we can no longer tell
where the river ends
For Emily Dickinson and feed stores, from Return to the City of White Donkeys.
from Of Whom and I Afraid? / by James Tate
At some point there was an
old, grizzled farmer standing next to me holding
a rake, and I said to him, ‘Have you ever read
much Emily Dickinson?’ ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘I
reckon I’ve read all of her poems at least a
dozen times. She’s a real pistol….’
PIA: from August 31, 2014.
For roses in the season of roses, from Chicago Review, Volume 23, Number 4, and Volume 25, Number 1.
from Old Man with Shears Among Roses / by Abby Rosenthal
Roses tumble noiselessly
through air.
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