Doug Anderson: Christmas
When I was a child and miserable
and love stopped at every house but mine
I’d go to sleep wishing for an angel,
that she’d emanate from the dark
and come to my bed.
Therese Frare: A father comforts his son on his deathbed. The photograph that changed the face of AIDS (1989)
A father comforts his son, David Kirby, on his deathbed in Ohio, 1989. . This picture is widely considered the photo that changed the face of AIDS. It showed AIDS … Continue reading
Yana Djin: “and when the first snow falls”
and when the first snow falls
over the river like a swarm
of butterflies blinded
Michael Simms: Four poems tracing an arc of forgiveness with real world examples
I was so sick of myself
Tired of everything tainted with myself.
Natalia Toledo Paz: To T.S. Eliot (a poem in English, Spanish and Zapotec)
From my hands grew red flowers
long and beautiful
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Time does not bring relief
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want … Continue reading
Banksy: Don’t Forget To Eat Your Lunch And Make Some Trouble
“We can’t do anything to change the world until capitalism crumbles. In the meantime, we should all go shopping to console ourselves.” — Banksy
Audio: ‘Fern Hill’ read by Dylan Thomas
Dylan Thomas reads Fern Hill, his poem of a green and golden childhood.
Stephen Dobyns: Pursuit
Each thing I do I rush through so I can do
something else. In such a way do the days pass
Bertha Rogers: Hawk’s Reason
When the hawk leaves his tree for movement among the green, when he aims earthward, the air opens for him as if sliced by a deft knife, space disappearing into … Continue reading
Sam Hamill: Remembering Kenneth Rexroth
The maple leaves are always green up here, and the waters of the Sound always blue. I have been thinking of you all day, at least since breezes pushed the … Continue reading
Doug Anderson: The Numbers
She’s had a few drinks, looking over my shoulder with her breast against my back. I’m showing her something about her camera and I guess because I’m seventy-four she thinks … Continue reading
Mary Oliver: Nature and the Poet
I could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple.
Michael Simms: An Appreciation of the Poetry of Robert Gibb
Robert Gibb is a poet’s poet. By that phrase I mean that he’s widely admired among poets across the country, but virtually unknown to the public. He’s published a dozen … Continue reading
