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.
For falling off bikes, from The Best American Poetry, 2013, guest edited by Denise Duhamel. Series editor, David Lehman.
from The Wrong Question / by Tony Hoagland
but now I find that I have never been all right.
There is something soft and childish at my core
I have not been able to eliminate.
For travels, classic music, and mentors, from The Best American Poetry, 2013, guest edited by Denise Duhamel, series editor David Lehman.
from Western Civilization / by Peter Jay Shippy
At dusk, Li Po
Came down from the foothills, looking
For Keith Moon. Lucas offered regrets
And faux Joe. They discussed The Who.
For mosaics, from Poetry Foundation. The rest of the poem may be found here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182363
from The Sheep Who Fastened the Sky to the Ground / by Oni Buchanan, b. 1975
I gathered
For Cordelia, from The Academy of American Poets, Poem-A-Day today. The rest of the poem may be found here today:
http://www.poets.org/
from Ever / by Meghan O’Rourke, b. 1976
Even now I can’t grasp “nothing” or “never.”
They’re unholdable, unglobable, no map to nothing.
Never? Never ever again to see you?
An error, I aver. You’re never nothing
For James Tate who died last night. Audio and visual of the complete poem, a fragment of his life, below. Will miss your live voice out and about in this world.
Of Whom Am I Afraid / by James Tate (1943–2015)
https://splitwindow.wordpress.com/2013/12/08/of-whom-am-i-afraid-james-tate/
For anything can be a sign, from American Poetry Review, July/August 2015.
from Signs / by Jennifer Chang
The light above us,
my son decides, is an erratic bird.
For the JFK roses blooming under the front window, from Poetry, June 2015.
from The Last Luxury, JFK, Jr. / by Alex Dimitrov
Born of the sun, we traveled a short while toward the sun.
Where there were seasons and sky. Where there were monuments.
Like a single engine plane in a July haze.
For a yesterday I’ll call today, from Poetry, July/August 2015.
from Memento / by Lily Cao
We might have been twins, I born in May
and she of the blistered January
For happy 4th to you! From Poetry Foundation.
from Firework / by Stacie Cassarino
I was a keeper of breath,
of hay. I walked a field, collecting bones.
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