DPF / Bowman

For requests of all shapes and sizes, from The Best American Poetry 1997, guest editor James Tate, series editor, David Lehman.

from No Sorry / by Catherine Bowman

Do you have any scissors I could borrow? No, I’m sorry I don’t. What about a knife? You got any knives? A good paring knife would do or a butcher knife or maybe a cleaver? No, sorry all I have is this old bread knife my grandfather used to butter his bread with every morning. Well then, how about

DPF / Brown

For upstate New York, from The Best American Poetry 1997, guest editor James Tate, series editor David Lehman.

from Feminine Intuition / by Stephanie Brown

                     After the picnic
I said, “She reminds me of Little Red Riding Hood.”
My husband said, “Yeah.”
We were doing dishes.
I can’t say some other things, so I say this.

DPF / Fong

For Turlock, from The Best American Poetry 1997, guest editor James Tate, series editor, David Lehman.

from Asylum / by Herman Fong

One afternoon, outside their farmhouse,
we sit on crates and smell yams
swelling in the warm earth.

DPF / Conoley

For summer, from The Best American Poetry 1997, guest editor, James Tate, series editor, David Lehman.

from The Sky Drank In / by Gillian Conoley

The sky drank in sparrows making lucid the oaks.
The shadow dropped beneath the stair.

DPF / Dickey

For Berryman, from The Best American Poetry 1997, editor James Tate, series editor David Lehman.

from The Death of John Berryman / by William Dickey

He loosened his necktie and the recurrent dream
of walking out under water to the destined island.
His mother went over in pearls; his father went over.
His real father went over, whoever his father was.

DPF / Orozco

For ghostly carriages, from The FSG Book of Latin American Poetry, edited by Ilan Stavans.

from Ballad of Forgotten Places / by Olga Orozco (1920-1999, Argentina) translated by Marcy Crow

My places would look like broken mirages,
clippings of photographs torn from an album to orient nostalgia,
but they have roots deeper than this sinking ground,
these fleeing doors, these vanishing walls.

DPF / Hong

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.