For Day 28, my birthday day ten months away, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova.
from At the Edge of the Sea / by Anna Akhmatova (1889–1966)
Bays cut into the low-lying shore,
all the sails were fleeing out to sea,
And I was drying my salty braid
On a flat rock a mile from land.
For Day 27, from Phantom Pains of Madness.
from The Stars / by Noelle Kocot
I
Wish
I
Could
Shake
Loose
Of
Them
For Day 25, a controversial girl, from Transformations.
from Rumpelstiltskin / by Anne Sexton
She wept,
of course, huge aquamarine tears.
The door opened and in popped a dwarf.
For Day 23, from The Best of It.
from After Zeno / by Kay Ryan
Where is is
when is is was?
I have an is
but where is his?
For Day 22, from Picnic, Lighting.
from In the Room of a Thousand Miles / by Billy Collins
My wife hands these poems back to me
with a sigh.
She thinks I ought to be opening up
my aperture to let in
the wild rhododendrons of Ireland
For Day 21, from Station Island.
from A Waking Dream / by Seamus Heaney
When I made the rush to throw salt
on her tail the long treadles of the air
took me in my stride so lofted
beyond exerted breath
For Day 20, from The Throne of Labdacus.
from The God Tunes the Strings: One / by Gjertrud Schnackenberg, b. 1953
Like pieces broken from the moon
Above the citadel of Thebes —
A story scourging the mud surface like a plague,
A Mycenaean folktale told
In a whispering poetry
For Day 19 of National Poetry Month, from Up Country. I had the pleasure of hearing Kumin read at the Key West Literary Seminar in January of 2010.
from The Horses / by Maxine Kumin
It has turned to snow in the night.
The horses have put on
their long fur stockings
and they are wearing
fur capes with high necks
For Day 18, from a departed master and teacher, from Departures.
from Variations on a Text by Vallejo / by Donald Justice
And I think it will be a Sunday because today,
When I took out this paper and began write,
Never before had anything looked so blank,
My life, these words, the paper, the gray Sunday
For Day 17 of National Poetry Month and for spring, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Budding Scholars / by April Halprin Wayland, b. 1954
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