For watching oneself barrel through life and wanting to choose to be the self who goes back for the book, from Picnic, Lightning.
from I Go Back to the House for a Book / by Billy Collins
another me that did not bother
to go back to the house for a book
heads out on his own,
rolls down the driveway,
and swings left toward town
For rising to the occasion, which is hopefully what will happen on this day, from Picnic, Lightning.
from What I Learned Today / by Billy Collins
I had never heard of John Bernard Flannagan,
American sculptor,
until I found him on page 961
of the single-volume encyclopedia I am reading
at the rate of one page each day.
For reading, in this week before the Battle of the Books, from Picnic, Lightning.
from Marginalia / by Billy Collins
Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
For there are many weeks that need lightening, and this will definitely be one of them. In some ways Collins is just the one to remind one that there is lightness left in the world; however, read him more, and you’ll see the darkness at which he takes aim, from Picnic, Lightning. Here are the rules for a “paradelle”: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/poetic-form-paradelle. Irresistible in an unreal kind of way.
from Paradelle for Susan / by Billy Collins
I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.
I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.
Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.
Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.
Thinnest love, remember the quick branch.
Always nervous, I perched on your highest bird the.
For the new landscape of the new year, and naturally, for this weekend’s playoffs, from Poems of Paul Celan, translated by Michael Hamburger.
from Draft of a Landscape / by Paul Celan
Lavas, basalts, glowing
stone from the world’s heart.
Wellspring tuff
where light grew for us, before
our breath.
For weather, from an Iowan’s poem, from poetryfoundation.org. Our weather page here in the valley scheduled rain for every day this week; in our time of drought, anything from the sky met mostly ecstatic umbrellas this week.
from Ode to a Blizzard / by Tom Disch
For bookstores, from Memoir of the Hawk. When I was younger, I traveled the United States in search of great, used bookstores. I found so many! In related news, I miss you so much, Mr. Tate.
from Memory / by James Tate
Bookstore with a donkey in its heart,
bookstore full of clouds and
sometimes lighting, showers.
Books just in from Australia,
books by madmen and giants.
For the love of vowels, from Poetry, January 2017.
from An Owl (in Memory of Gil) / by David Shapiro
Owl small be enough
The child for all his feathers was a cold.
Oh wow the owl.
For some rainy days like today are made for fairy tales, even these, from Transformations.
from Cinderella / by Anne Sexton
Once
the wife of a rich man was on her deathbed
and she said to her daughter Cinderella:
Be devout. Be good. Then I will smile
down from heaven in the seam of a cloud.
For fathers and sons and sharing time with our parents, from Opening the Hand.
from Yesterday / by W.S. Merwin
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don’t want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
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