For travel, from Exit Island, by Terri Witek.
from I wake on an island / by Terri Witek
Here is what I was told on the ship:
1. Do your arguing on deck.
2. Thefts are rare.
3. Find out how a windlass works: some day you’ll have to get that anchor up or down.
For cabins and bears, from A Book of Luminous Things, edited by Czeslaw Milosz.
from Destruction / by Joanne Kyger, b. 1934
He chomps up Norwegian crackers
stashed for the winter. And the bouillon, salt, pepper,
paprika, garlic, onions, potatoes.
For Wednesdays, from Poetry Foundation. The rest of the poem may be found here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/241072
from Wednesday, August 02, 2006 / by Susan M. Schulz b. 1958
–Compare and contrast the acquisition of a language to its loss. Avoid the trap of merely saying that the latter happens in reverse order of the former. You are likely to do better if you see them as similar processes, though one leads to gain, the other loss.
For red flowers, from Poetry, May 2015. A brief biography of the poet may be found here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/tomaz-salamun#poet
from Ships / by Tomaž Šalamun
If bees rushed into my face, I’d scratch
at them with my hand and would see
again.
For weeds more green and baby rabbits, from Poetry Foundation.
from Another Sunday Morning / by Carter Revard, b. 1931
For angels and dinosaurs, from Poetry, June 2015.
from I’m not a religious person but / by Chen Chen
The angel sounded like me, early twenties, unpaid interning. Proficient in fetching coffee, sending super vague emails.
For Milton, from Poetry, June 2015.
from Blackacre / by Monica Youn
In a dark world, the ‘wide’ is the sudden door that opens on unfurling blackness, the void pooling at the bottom of the unlit stairs.
For mermaids and birdcages, from Poetry, June 2015. I’m still trying not to repeat anyone. On the days that I’ve mistakenly repeated a writer (once or twice?) I’ve posted a new poet that same day as well. So many poets in the world. If poetry is dying, so are clouds.
from Freud’s Beautiful Things / by Emily Berry
All the while I kept thinking: her face has such a wild look
…as though she had never existed
For yellow forsythia and Sylvia, from Poetry, June 2015.
from Sylvia En Route to Kythera / by Kathryn Starbuck
Sylvia used to trod
through it to see us
too often
For form and the game of chess of it, from Villanelles, edited by Annie Finch and Marie-Eliabeth Mali.
from Experts Say / by Janet R. Kirchheimer, b. 1956
The villanelle is a poet’s nightmare.
And this is my 9th attempt.
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