For some palaces are built of words, from The Best American Poetry, 2013, guest edited by Denise Duhamel. Series editor, David Lehman. A little traveling talisman to hover over my flight into a rainy town today.
from A Parable / by Anna Maria Hong
For our wages,
we were pinned with corsages dense with
glossy leaves, which became permanent
appendages.
For falling off bikes, from The Best American Poetry, 2013, guest edited by Denise Duhamel. Series editor, David Lehman.
from The Wrong Question / by Tony Hoagland
but now I find that I have never been all right.
There is something soft and childish at my core
I have not been able to eliminate.
For travels, classic music, and mentors, from The Best American Poetry, 2013, guest edited by Denise Duhamel, series editor David Lehman.
from Western Civilization / by Peter Jay Shippy
At dusk, Li Po
Came down from the foothills, looking
For Keith Moon. Lucas offered regrets
And faux Joe. They discussed The Who.
For mosaics, from Poetry Foundation. The rest of the poem may be found here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182363
from The Sheep Who Fastened the Sky to the Ground / by Oni Buchanan, b. 1975
I gathered
For Cordelia, from The Academy of American Poets, Poem-A-Day today. The rest of the poem may be found here today:
http://www.poets.org/
from Ever / by Meghan O’Rourke, b. 1976
Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”
They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You’re never nothing
For dusk in California, from A Book of Luminous Things, edited by Czeslaw Milosz.
from Zen of Housework / by Al Zolynas
a ceremony of sparrows and bare branches
is setting in Western America.
For saltimbanques, from The Poetry of Surrealism, edited by Michael Benedikt.
from Phantom of the Clouds / by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918) translated by Michael Benedikt
A tiny spirit without the least human burden
Everybody thought
And this music of shapes and forms
Drowned out that of the mechanical organ
Ground out by the man with his face covered with his own ancestors
For love and wine, from Selected Translations, by W.S. Merwin.
from The moon which the sky never saw / by Rumi (1207-1273) 1974, translated with Talat Halman
the glory of Tabriz
is the sun that hearts follow
like clouds
For James Tate who died last night. Audio and visual of the complete poem, a fragment of his life, below. Will miss your live voice out and about in this world.
Of Whom Am I Afraid / by James Tate (1943–2015)
https://splitwindow.wordpress.com/2013/12/08/of-whom-am-i-afraid-james-tate/
For anything can be a sign, from American Poetry Review, July/August 2015.
from Signs / by Jennifer Chang
The light above us,
my son decides, is an erratic bird.
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