For parents, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Night Where You No Longer Live / by Meghan O’Rourke
Do you intend to come back
Do you hear the world’s keening
Will you stay the night
21st-Century American Poetry
DPF / Clifton
For mothers and yesterdays, from poetryfoundation.org.
from oh antic God / by Lucille Clifton
oh antic God
return to me
my mother in her thirties
leaned across the front porch
DPF / Wave Books Poetry Bus Tour
For a happy birthday to my sister today, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Journal, Day 46 / by Wave Books Poetry Bus Tour
Truth is, I’m in LA today, at a 2-day conference for experimental poetry called Impunities.
DPF / Glück
For the Friday that happens early Saturday morning, from Poems 1962-2012.
from Japonica / by Louise Glück
The rain had stopped. Sunlight
motioned through the leaves.
DPF / Ryan
For color and light, from The Best of It.
from Every Painting by Chagall / by Kay Ryan
every air fish, smudged Russian,
red horse, yellow chicken, assumes
its position not actually beside
but in some friendly distribution
DPF / Kocot
For flocks of angels, from Soul in Space, by Noelle Kocot.
from This is Your Life / by Noelle Kocot
Then, just like that, a devoted silence
Dissolved into the night like a flock of angels.
What more could I have wanted?
DPF / Ryan
For delay, from The Best of It.
from Grazing Horses / by Kay Ryan
Sometimes the
green pasture
of the mind
tilts abruptly.
DPF / Marquette
For dreams of the other kind, from Poetry, March 2016.
from Want / by Gretchen Marquette
When I was twelve, I wanted a macaw
but they cost hundreds of dollars.
If we win the lottery? I asked.
DPF / Ortolani
For dreams, from Rattle, Spring 2016.
from Paper Birds Don’t Fly / by Al Ortolani
Last night I had a dream
that my father, six years
dead now, left me a message
folded into some kind of origami bird.
DPF / Herrera
For ways of travel, real and surreal, from Senegal Taxi, by Juan Felipe Herrera, our Poet Laureate.
from Mud Drawing #32. Ibrahim, the Village Boy / by Juan Felipe Herrera
…I slowed my taxi I opened the soft door stepped out Sahel too and Abdullah the waters of the ocean flushed us out of the taxi on a round street under the dark winged stone of the sun.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 