For Happy 4th of July! From poetryfoundation.org.
from Fireworks, Harborfest / by Luisa A. Igloria
Only when the fireworks burst
above our heads can we forgive
them their pleasure.
DPF / Spacks
PIA: from July 27, 2014.
Any day is a good day for myth making. This one’s from Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama, 3rd Edition, ed. by XJ Kennedy (1983). More here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/barry-spacks
from Teaching the Penguins to Fly / by Barry Spacks (1931-2014)
it’s nothing like easy to start them moving;
she’ll leap and flap her arms to teach
the big idea
DPF / Schuyler
PIA July: from July 2, 2014.
More for the flowers. This one’s from The New American Poetry, ed. by Donald M. Allen (1960).
from Salute / by James Schuyler (1923-1991)
to gather one
of each kind of clover,
daisy, paintbrush that
grew in that field
DPF / Forché
Play-It-Again July: from 1.31.14.
from Sequestered Writing / by Carolyn Forché
What ghost comes to the bedside whispering You?
— With its no one without its I —
DPF / Edson
For crossings and prose poetry, from The Tunnel. And, for July, an experiment. I’m going to try Play-It-Again July, in which I look through my DPF archives and replay some favorites, daily.
from The Bridge / by Russell Edson
Tomorrow we cross the bridge. I’ll write to you from the other side if I can; if not, look for a sign…
DPF / Mark
For gratitude for spectacles, from Tsim, Tsum.
from The 10 Stages of Beatrice / by Sabrina Orah Mark
The possibility that she is not alive, in this stage, never enters her mind. This stage is only possible if the spectacle comes to town.
DPF /Glück
For children who think and think and will say, if someone asks. From Faithful and Virtuous Night.
from Faithful and Virtuous Night / by Louise Glück
Of course, in a certain sense I was not empty-handed:
I had my colored pencils.
In another sense, that is my point:
I had accepted substitutes.
DPF / Ryan
For those unexpected visitors, rhymes when you least expect them, from The Best of It.
from Deer / by Kay Ryan
To lure a single swivel ear,
one tentative twig of a leg,
or a nervous tail here,
is to mark this place
as the emperor’s park,
rife, I say rife, with deer.
DPF / Levine
For newborns, from What Work Is.
from Among Children / by Philip Levine
There was such wonder
in their sleep, such purpose in their eyes
closed against autumn, in their damp heads
blurred with the hair of ponds, and not one
turned against me or the light, not one
said, I am sick, I am tired, I will go home,
not one complained or drifted alone,
unloved, on the hardest day of their lives.
DPF / Williams
For the love of chicken wire and parts of boxes, from The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams: Volume I, 1909-1939.
from Pastoral / by William Carlos Williams
No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 