For Day 19 of National Poetry Month, from Up Country. I had the pleasure of hearing Kumin read at the Key West Literary Seminar in January of 2010.
from The Horses / by Maxine Kumin
It has turned to snow in the night.
The horses have put on
their long fur stockings
and they are wearing
fur capes with high necks
For Day 18, from a departed master and teacher, from Departures.
from Variations on a Text by Vallejo / by Donald Justice
And I think it will be a Sunday because today,
When I took out this paper and began write,
Never before had anything looked so blank,
My life, these words, the paper, the gray Sunday
For Day 17 of National Poetry Month and for spring, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Budding Scholars / by April Halprin Wayland, b. 1954
For Day 16, from The Complete Poems 1926-1979.
from The Man-Moth / by Elizabeth Bishop
Each night he must
be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.
Just as the ties recur beneath his train, these underlie
his rushing brain.
For Day 15, feeling Miltonic. From Paradise Lost.
from Paradise Lost: Book 1 / by John Milton
For Day 13 and one of our beloved alma maters, even in today’s tribulations and pain, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The School Where I Studied / by Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
For Day 12 of National Poetry Month from one UF alumna to another and from her book, The Bigger World.
from Love Story / by Noelle Kocot
‘Let’s live in a blue house together,
Have blue house children, and
Live under the fragile still-
Life of the stars.’
A spring flower for Day 11, from Ariel.
from Tulips / by Sylvia Plath
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
For Day 10 of National Poetry Month, from a local, valley poet, and from american poets: The Journal of the Academy of American Poets, Spring-Summer 2016, and from The Darkening Trapeze.
from Ghazal / by Larry Levis
I remember how
My old psychiatrist would pinch his nose between
A thumb and forefinger, look up at me & sigh.
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