For words and tiny stitches, from The Star By My Head.
from The Nights Have Become Bigger / by Kristina Lugn b. 1948
soon there is no room for them
in my head anymore
Poetry
DPF / Tranströmer
For silence, from The Star By My Head: Poets from Sweden, edited and translated by Malena Mörling and Jonas Ellerström.
from April and Silence / by Tomas Tranströmer b. 1931
All I want to say
gleams out of reach
DPF / Tagore
For winter, from Poetry.
from I Will Not Let You Go / by Rabindranath Tagore
On all sides stretches a sun-flooded night void of speech or sound or sign of life.
DPF / Jackson
For skating – rink nights, from APR, November/December 2014. (12/5/14 was from APR, too.)
from Paradise Skate / by Marcus Jackson
the wall wore a mural of a tropical beach,
parrots squawking in the painted trees
DPF / Emerson
For calendars and hospitals, from Poetry, December 2014. Sad to lose another poet this year.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse/178/3#!/20605323
from Daybook / by Claudia Emerson (1957-2014)
This is the season of her dying, and you
have kept it, I find, underneath the stairs
DPF / Clark
For flotsam, from Poetry, December 2014. More here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/tom-clark#poet
from Blown Away / by Tom Clark b. 1941
ephemeral as tinkerbell
unmoored yet not unmoved
DPF / Manhire
For Ireland, Portugal and Hungary, from Poetry, December 2014.
from Surveillance Notes / by Bill Manhire
In Sweden, they whispered all winter,
counting the frozen minutes.
DPF / Gavin
For languages, from Poetry, December 2014. The whole poem can be found at:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/249110
from Strindberg Gray / by Knar Gavin
Excess was for days when my mother sat turning grape leaves
with three sets of pockets: Turkish, English, & Armenian, plus lemon to dry it all out.
DPF / Xu
For seasons, from Poetry, December 2014. The poem will be up on poetryfoundation.org when the December issue posts.
from The Forecast / by Wendy Xu b. 1987
little shimmer, little wilt startled
from out the arranging field
DPF / Strand
So sad to see that Mark Strand died yesterday. Thankful he lived through this last Thanksgiving. Love this one from his book, The Weather of Words. Here’s a small part of it.
from Narrative Poetry / by Mark Strand
I wanted to remind them that the narrative poem takes the place of an absent narrative and is always absorbing the other’s absence so it can be named, and, at the same time, relinquishing its own presence to the awful solitudes of forgetfulness.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 