Marianne Boruch when he knew nothing. A leaflooks like this, doesn’t it? No oneto ask. So came the inventionof the question too, the way all at heart are rhetorical, each leafsuddenly wedded to its shade. When God knew nothing, it was better, wasn’t it? Not the color blue yet, its deep unto black. No color at all really, not yet…
Category: Poetry
The purpose of poetry
The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will. from Ars Poetica? BY CZESLAW MILOSZ
What if …
What if you slept? What if you sleptAnd what ifIn your sleepYou dreamedAnd what ifIn your dreamYou went to heavenAnd there plucked a strange and beautiful flowerAnd what ifWhen you awokeYou had that flower in your handAh, what then? SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
Things to Think
Things to Think Think in ways you’ve never thought beforeIf the phone rings, think of it as carrying a messageLarger than anything you’ve ever heard,Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats. Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,Maybe wounded and deranged: or think that a mooseHas risen out of the lake, and…
Savaging
Proximity by Karen Head The young possum foragingoutside my office windowseems unconcerned by my presence—after all, I’m the one who’s trapped.I snack on almonds, watchit nibble whatever it can find,and though I am inclined to share,I know that opening the windowwill change the world. Karen Head lives in Georgia, and possums seem to live all…
Darkness at Noon
Noon Hour BY PEGGY TROJAN Unless hot lunch at schoolwas serving something speciallike corn chowderand baking powder biscuitsor creamed chipped beefpotatoes and browniesI went hometo what mymother madelike most town kids Jack walked the furthestalmost to the riverto his unpainted houseby the railroad tracksWe all knew nobody was therehis mom at the tavern alreadyHe always…
December
December On the fire escape, onestupid petunia still blooms,purple trumpet blowinghigh notes at the sky longafter the rest of the bandhas packed upand gone home. — Sarah Frelig
Passing Through
A short story of excellence, dedication and perseverance & of the joy and importance of meaning-making: Ted Kooser (1939) was the 13th Poet Laureate of the United States and received the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 2005.
On pain and solace
There can be no beauty without the ghost of pain held within it. Although the wind … BY IZUMI SHIKIBU – TRANSLATED BY JANE HIRSHFIELD Although the wind blows terribly here, the moonlight also leaks between the roof planks of this ruined house. from The Ink Dark Moon (Vintage Books, 1990) The moon in Japanese…
Looking for the subtle signs –
Here is a great poem for you: Peak Summerby Eric Nixon We’re steeped deep in summerAnd everything around meSeems to indicate it’ll never endBut still I’m spending timeLooking for the subtle signsTrying to figure out whenWe’ve reached peak summerWhen the billion green treesStart to dull ever so slightlyWhen the bounty of vegetablesFound at all the…
sub rosa 