Stephen Dobyns: No Map
To neither did I say how much
I loved them, nor express the extent of my fear.
Their bodies are delicate glass boxes
at which the world begins to fling its stones.
Robin Wall Kimmerer: I close my eyes and listen to the voices of the rain
Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy.
Michael Simms: Love
When I was a child, my mother told me
God has many faces
And She reveals Herself
In many ways.
Michael Simms: Hands
Every man who works with his hands
Has seen that look. Maybe we showed up
To patch the roof, service the furnace,
Or unclog the sewer…
Stephen Dobyns: Santiago in Winter
He is gone now, the blind man, tidily dressed
in a suit of dust, with a dusty tie and dark glasses,
who played the clarinet on Paseo Huerfanos,
the paseo of the orphanage…
John Samuel Tieman: What is wrong with Donald Trump?
“The malignant narcissist is presented as pathologically grandiose, lacking in conscience and behavioral regulation with characteristic demonstrations of joyful cruelty and sadism.”
James Wright: Depressed by a Book of Bad Poetry, I Walk Toward an Unused Pasture and Invite the Insects to Join Me
The old grasshoppers
Are tired, they leap heavily now,
Their thighs are burdened.
I want to hear them, they have clear sounds to make.
Video: The greatest glue commercial ever made
This classic 1992 television ad for Talens Rubber Cement swept the Cannes International Advertising Film Festival, winning its Grand Prix award.
Will Kaufman: Woody Guthrie, ‘Old Man Trump’ and a real estate empire’s racist foundations
In 1950, Woody Guthrie moved to an apartment building in Brooklyn. His landlord: Fred Trump, father of Donald. And yes, Woody wrote a song about it.
Naomi Shihab Nye: To Netanyahu
My Palestinian father named his donkey after you…
Now I think he insulted the donkey.
Michael Simms: On the Spectrum with Garrison Keillor
Many of the issues people have had with Keillor’s behavior through the years may have been caused by his autism.
Danusha Laméris: Small Kindnesses
For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now.
Pablo Neruda: I’m explaining a few things
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain
Naomi Shihab Nye: Trees Gossip with the Birds
When the orange sun sinks over the AZIZI sign I feel
the darkening world soaking up all the extra noise
