For University of Kentucky, Wisconsin, Michigan State and Duke: the Final Four. From Poetryfoundation.org. I spent about ten summers, as a child, in my grandparents’ home at the top of a mountain in Kentucky, so, I’m a bit biased. Go, Wildcats!
from Catch / by Samiya Bashir
if this is a game then we have made it, unknowing,
to the final four. unlikely underdogs.
For Berkeley and owls, from A Book of Luminous Things, edited by Czeslaw Milosz.
from Adult / by Linda Gregg, b. 1942
I could be the ghost of my own life returning
to the places I lived best.
For falling leaves, from A Book of Luminous Things, An International Anthology of Poetry, edited by Czeslaw Milosz.
from Signature of All Things / by Kenneth Rexroth (1905-1982)
On the mirrored sky and forest
For a while
As I continue to try to not repeat poets and to not split infinitives (eventually, I will repeat, but, for now, it’s fun to see how many days I can go without doing so) I thought I might try something very loosely thematic. Robinson Jeffers placed keepsakes from around the world in the concrete of the stone pathways, in the tower, and in the exterior and interior walls of the home he built in Carmel. It’s a useful metaphor; so, this week, beginning with today, while building this part of my online home, I will embed some fragments from 20th-Century Women American Poets very loosely linked by the fact that they each wrote poetry in the 1980’s. This one’s from Blood Pressure, 1988. Too, I love to read her reading poems.
from The Last Poem About the Snow Queen / by Sandra M. Gilbert
and they love you
the way the teeth of winter
love the last red shred of November.