David Adès: Our Griefs
When they were little and not yet anguish
we nurtured our griefs,
we coddled them,
said there, there, things will get better.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Dusk Again
There’s a particular light when fall days die
William Wenthe: Assembly
What moved us, perhaps, was something like
what moves the calling of these robins.
Sophie Cabot Black: Democracy Until
And to set fire before heading on
Is also to say it does not matter
Which part is played
But that it gets played.
Bill Knott: The Closet
I shall find room enough here
By excluding myself; by excluding myself, I’ll grow.
Michael Simms: A Cowboy in the Chapel of Bones
Where I come from
it’s bad manners to speak of death
except in dead metaphors.
Barbara Crooker: Treadmill
We lift weights. We
feel great. We
do yoga. We
eat granola.
Zbigniew Herbert: The Envoy of Mr. Cogito
and do not forgive truly it is not in your power
to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn
Chard deNiord: River
lose then find yourself where self begins in emptiness
Valerie Bacharach: Crows
Some days I don’t know what to do with this rage I carry.
Sally Bliumis-Dunn: Week One
She is fine like a ringlet of fiddlehead fern
before it unfurls in the summer forest
Zeina Azzam: Alive in Gaza
Ahmed spends hours each day trying to find potable water, wood to make a fire, anything for his family to eat.
