For candles at dusk, from A Book of Luminous Things, edited by Czeslaw Milosz.
from Dusk in My Backyard / by Keith Wilson, b. 1927
pecans drop, rattle down —
the tin roof of our house
rivers to platinum in the early moon
Poetry
DPF / Cullen
For our January fog (which I love) whose job it is to keep the green at bay while inadvertently encouraging it, from The Oxford Book of American Poetry, edited by David Lehman.
from To John Keats, Poet at Spring Time / by Countee Cullen (1903-1946)
Somehow I feel your sensitive will
Is pulsing up some tremulous
Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves
Grow music as they grow
DPF / Auden
No Auden yet? This one’s for and from Auden and for Ireland, from The Oxford Book of American Verse, edited by David Lehman (2006).
from In Memory of W.B. Yeats (d. January 1939) / by W.H. Auden (1907-1973)
By mourning tongues
The death of the poet was kept from his poems
DPF / Olson
For Greeks, Romans, and Massachusetts, from The Oxford Book of American Poetry, edited by David Lehman (2006).
from The Kingfishers / by Charles Olson (1910-1970)
will not indicate a favoring wind,
or avert the thunderbolt
DPF / Young
For snow, from The Best American Poetry 2014.
from Emerald Spider Between Rose Thorns / by Dean Young
and who knew how much I’d miss
that inner light of snow
DPF / Pessoa
For trees, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, edited by Laurie Sheck.
from XXXV. “The moonlight behind the tall branches” / by Fernando Pessoa, translated by Edwin Honig and Susan M. Brown
The poets all say is more
Than the moonlight behind the tall branches.
DPF / Barber
For islands and swing sets, from Poetry Foundation. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/249500
from I Found a 1950s “Answer and Color-in Book” / by Jennifer Barber
One day the children played
in the kitchen.
in the cellar.
in the yard.
DPF / Clover
For idly sweeping up, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, edited by Laurie Sheck.
from “An archive of confessions, a genealogy of confessions” / by Joshua Clover, b. 1962
The tribe of mothers calls the tribe of children
Across the bluing evening. It’s the hour things get
To be excellently pointless, like describing the alphabet.
DPF / Taylor
(Errata: Taylor is updated.) 🙂
For spinning wheels and memory, from The Oxford Book of American Poetry, edited by David Lehman.
from Huswifery / by Edward Taylor (1642-1729)
Make me thy Loome then, knit therein this Twine:
And make thy Holy Spirit, Lord, winde quills:
Then weave the Web Thyselfe. Thy yarn is fine.
DPF / Taylor
(Updated) For spinning wheels and memory, from The Oxford Book of American Poetry, edited by David Lehman.
from Huswifery / by Edward Taylor (1642-1729)
Make me thy Loome then, knit therein this Twine:
And make thy Holy Spirit, Lord, winde quills:
Then weave the Web Thyselfe. Thy yarn is fine.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 