For journeys, from The Academy of American Poets at poets.org
from Theories of Time and Space / by Natasha Tretheway
Bring only
what you must carry—tome of memory
its random blank pages. On the dock
where you board the boat for Ship Island,
someone will take your picture:
the photograph—who you were—
will be waiting when you return
For the season, from poetryfoundation.org.
from October / by Bobbi Katz
October is when jack-o’-lanterns
grin in the darkness
and
strange company crunches
across the rumple of dry leaves
For October, fairytales and brothers, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Witch Has Told You a Story / by Ava Leavell Haymon
He will lean toward the maw
of the oven as it opens
every afternoon, sighing
better and better smells.
For sparrows, from The Rose Metal Field Guide to Prose Poetry.
from Pancake House Is Made of Pancakes / by Gerry LaFemina
Pancake house is made of pancakes. Treehouse is made of trees. Townhouse is made of towns
For autumns, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Country Autumns / by Clark Coolidge
Two plates, and on the other side all the
forest pieces. The clock says stay.
The books lower the earth, and in gardens
flat stones spin.
For Mom’s 74th birthday today, from poetryfoundation.org.
from 44th Birthday Evening at Harris ‘ s/ by Ted Berrigan.
44 years I’ve loved these dreams today
17 years since I wrote for the first time a poem
On my birthday, why did I wait so long?
For cross country running, for this is what came up in the search at poetryfoundation.org.
from Elegy in a Country Courtyard / by GK Chesterton
And birds and bees of England
About the cross can roam.
For sleep, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Night in Sine / by LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR, TRANSLATED BY MELVIN DIXON
Woman, place your soothing hands upon my brow,
Your hands softer than fur.
Above us balance the palm trees, barely rustling
In the night breeze. Not even a lullaby.
For locks and scenes, from The Best American Poetry, 1997, edited by James Tate.
from Downward Mobility / by Lewis Warsh
I’ll probably make the same mistake at least one more time in my life before I learn there’s an alternative.
For dreams, from The Best American Poetry, 1997, edited by James Tate.
from Recruiting Poster / by Hillel Schwartz
Be what or who or where
ever, but be torrid.
Oh, be most, then more so, then beyond.
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