Dear Poetry Followers, this one’s for the clock, which gets a starring role this upcoming weekend, from The Most of It.
from My Pet, My Clock / by Mary Ruefle
A clock, on the other hand and against all appearances, is a very poor way to tell time, for all it does is sit there or hang on the wall, and very seldom does it do anything of itself to remind you of time.
Dear Poetry Followers, here’s a fragment from a new book published just this month; it’s from one of our favorite Floridians, and from the book, Rift of Light.
from Complaint / by William Logan
If there are dream houses,
are there undreamed houses
full of the things we desire
or only those we deserve?
For a poet to whom I sent a fan note about twenty years ago, from Heart in a Jar, her new book.
from Dear Life: A Ten-Specimen Cento / by Kathleen McGookey
Whale bones litter the only sky. Fireflies are strung up and dangle by the glass walls.
For another poet we will miss, from poetryfoundation.org: July 28, 1927-September 3, 2017.
from How to Continue / by John Ashbery (1927-2017)
For the new-school-year days are sort of like a colorful, spinning thing, from Poetry, September 2016.
from Carousel / by Jaya Savige
You were lured in a luminous canoesaid to have once ruled a lunar ocean.
For sometimes when the world turns upside down, it’s a blessing, from Poetry, September 2017.
from Future Memories / by Mario Meléndez, translated from the Spanish by Eloisa Amezcua
My sister woke me very early
that morning and told me
‘Get up, you have to come see this
the ocean’s filled with stars’
For ghosts I love, from Poetry, September 2017.
from The ghost / by Dorothea Lasky
I forgot to mention that the wings were gold and green
And the winds were heavy
They held his body
Afloat in air as if in the ocean
For our sun, and for a poet with the same last name as our grandparents had, from poets.org.
from Sci-Fi / by Tracy K. Smith
Eons from even our own moon, we’ll driftIn the haze of space, which will be, onceAnd for all, scrutable and safe.
For all the readers out there and for those readers headed back to work after any summer vacation, I hope you got to enjoy some great summer reads, from poets.org.
from Dear Reader / by Billy Collins
Baudelaire considers you his brother,
and Fielding calls out to you every few paragraphs
as if to make sure you have not closed the book,
and now I am summoning you up again,
attentive ghost, dark silent figure standing
in the doorway of these words.
For our lived-in house renovation, from poets.org; the diy part is not as easy as it looked on paper!
from Regardless of Disaster / by Jessica Greenbaum
Only through a disaster or a renovation
does the entire brick side of a house come down
and in this case the workmen threw stoves and refrigerators
out the windows, letting them bounce
off the fire escapes into the little Brooklyn yard.
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Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 