For James Tate and for his diner, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Jim’s All-Night Diner / by James Tate
imagine you have seen the world,
the very real world,
or a small jade buddha
falling from a red cloud.
DPF / Heaney
For making metaphor-making look as simple as breathing, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Casualty / by Seamus Heaney
To get out early, haul
Steadily off the bottom,
Dispraise the catch, and smile
As you find a rhythm
Working you, slow mile by mile,
Into your proper haunt
Somewhere, well out, beyond…
DPF / Wade
For hearts, pollen, and trees, from The Best American Poetry 2015, Guest Editor, Sherman Alexie, Series Editor, David Lehman.
from The Chickasaw Trees / by Sidney Wade
are full of bees
the pretty white
panicles
everywhere
DPF / Marquette
For dreams of the other kind, from Poetry, March 2016.
from Want / by Gretchen Marquette
When I was twelve, I wanted a macaw
but they cost hundreds of dollars.
If we win the lottery? I asked.
DPF / Galvin
For windless nights and limelight, from The Best American Poetry 2015, guest editor Sherman Alexie, series editor David Lehman.
from On the Sadness of Wedding Dresses / by James Galvin
A few lucky wedding dresses
Get worn by daughters — just once more,
then back to the closet.
DPF / Lowell
For the approaching season and the hope that I don’t miss the few lilac weeks this year, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Lilacs / by Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
Lilacs,
False blue,
White,
Purple,
Color of lilac.
Heart-leaves of lilac all over New England,
Roots of lilac under all the soil of New England,
Lilac in me because I am New England,
Because my roots are in it,
Because my leaves are of it,
Because my flowers are for it,
Because it is my country
And I speak to it of itself
And sing of it with my own voice
Since certainly it is mine.
DPF / Ortolani
For dreams, from Rattle, Spring 2016.
from Paper Birds Don’t Fly / by Al Ortolani
Last night I had a dream
that my father, six years
dead now, left me a message
folded into some kind of origami bird.
DPF / Herrera
For ways of travel, real and surreal, from Senegal Taxi, by Juan Felipe Herrera, our Poet Laureate.
from Mud Drawing #32. Ibrahim, the Village Boy / by Juan Felipe Herrera
…I slowed my taxi I opened the soft door stepped out Sahel too and Abdullah the waters of the ocean flushed us out of the taxi on a round street under the dark winged stone of the sun.
DPF / Padgett
For oranges and sleep, from How to Be Perfect, by Ron Padgett.
from How to Be Perfect / by Ron Padgett
Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room
before you save the world. Then save the world.
DPF / Padgett
For colors and tapestry, from How to Be Perfect, by Ron Padgett.
from History / by Ron Padgett
I think that Geoffrey Chaucer did not move
the way a modern person moves.
He moved only an inch at a time, in what
we call stop action.
Daily Poetry Fragments {Semi-Daily} 