For Day 27, from Phantom Pains of Madness.

from The Stars / by Noelle Kocot

I
Wish
I
Could
Shake
Loose
Of
Them

For Day 23, from The Best of It.

from After Zeno / by Kay Ryan

Where is is
when is is was?
I have an is
but where is his?

For Day 22, from Picnic, Lighting.

from In the Room of a Thousand Miles / by Billy Collins

My wife hands these poems back to me
with a sigh.
She thinks I ought to be opening up
my aperture to let in
the wild rhododendrons of Ireland

For Day 20, from The Throne of Labdacus.

from The God Tunes the Strings: One / by Gjertrud Schnackenberg, b. 1953

Like pieces broken from the moon
Above the citadel of Thebes —

A story scourging the mud surface like a plague,
A Mycenaean folktale told

In a whispering poetry

For Day 17 of National Poetry Month and for spring, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Budding Scholars / by April Halprin Wayland, b. 1954

For Day 8 of National Poetry Month, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Let Me Tell You What A Poem Brings / by Juan Felipe Herrera

For poetry, from The Apple That Astonished Paris.

from Introduction to Poetry / by Billy Collins

For something to make anyone smile, from The Trouble with Poetry.

from The Introduction / by Billy Collins

Wagga Wagga is in New South Wales.
Rhyolite is that soft volcanic rock.
What else?
Yes, meranti is a type of timber, in tropical Asia I think,
and Rahway is just Rahway, New Jersey.

The rest of the poem should be clear.
I’ll just read it and let it speak for itself.

For the musicians and wonder teachers, from The Babies.

from Box Three, Spool Five / by Sabrina Orah Mark

Behind me I can hear me shuffling closer and closer: Be again. Be. Again. I try very hard to pray with all these hands against my back. I miss the keeper of this accordion.