PIA: from June 10, 2016. Missing James Tate this week especially.
For poetry, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Poem to Some of my Recent Poems / by James Tate
you owe your beauty to your mother, who
resembled a cyclindrical corned beef
with all the trimmings
For our 17th Wedding Anniversary today, on the lyric recommendation of my sister.
from America / by Paul Simon
Let us be lovers,
we’ll marry our fortunes together
PIA: from July 30, 2016.
For crossings and prose poetry, from The Tunnel.
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…
PIA: from July 30, 2016.
For crossings and prose poetry, from The Tunnel.
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…
For icicles and ferns, from 3 Books.
from The Poem / by Galway Kinnell
Where are the small poems Li Po folded into boats and pushed out on the river?
PIA: in 100 degrees, a little mind of winter.
For the beauty of Chinese poetry, from Negative Blue.
from After Reading Wang Wei, I Go Outside to the Full Moon / by Charles Wright
Back here, old snow like lace cakes,
Candescent and brittle now and then through the tall grass.
For dreams, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Lullaby / by Maggie Dietz
If I had a ginko tree
I’d climb it in the evening.
If I had a marmoset
He’d climb the tree with me.
For Ohio, on a good night for Cleveland and the state, and for fathers on earth and beyond it, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Youth / by James Wright
I know his ghost will drift home
To the Ohio River, and sit down, alone,
Whittling a root.
He will say nothing.
The waters flow past, older, younger
Than he is, or I am.
For poetry, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Poem to Some of my Recent Poems / by James Tate
you owe your beauty to your mother, who
resembled a cyclindrical corned beef
with all the trimmings
For wishes, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Minister of Culture Gets His Wish / by Mark Strand
The Minister of Culture goes home after a grueling day at the office. He lies on his bed and tries to think of nothing, but nothing hap-pens or, more precisely, does not happen.
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