Alison Hurwitz: Submerged
the story run across his skin, his mind a moving wheel
that cannot stop its circling, bearing down the road
with grackle wings, a story leafing past each turning
Ma Yongbo: Frost on the Window
It is spring now and the frost on the window is gradually thinning.
H.C. Palmer: An Old Kansas Farm Boy’s Take on Gary Snyder’s “Hay for the Horses” or Why I Became a Poet
In the early 1950s I worked summers as a part of a team of 4 high school football players bucking bales of alfalfa hay for a local rancher in Southeast Kansas. We moved over 1,000 bales from his hay meadow to the loft in his barn each cutting.
Lisel Mueller: Monet Refuses the Operation
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don’t see
Frank O’Hara: Autobiographia Literaria
And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!
Lawrence Wray: In Line at the Butcher
Papers blow and clot the gutters. The faces are those I’m used to from as long ago as Calabria, Donegal, and Kyiv. New arrivals are a year maybe from Juarez … Continue reading