Gerry LaFemina: Grafton Street, St. Stephen’s Green
church bells call out deliberately
the twelfth hour, thus reminding us
we’re halfway between yesterday
& tomorrow
Tayve Neese: At thirteen
Oh, Mariah, my life is now an apology
for how I forgot you, and let the tide
of my own life take me out to sea
when I knew that you needed me.
Peter Blair: Estivation
Against blue dusk
a bat dives, veers
over the bank, dips,
swoops up
above the library
Rachel Hadas: Lyric Leap
lacuna, hiatus, sidebar,
sudden swerve, and you are far
along already toward surprise.
Jay Carson: Railroad Bill
I have always lived within the sound
of the Pennsylvania Railroad
which moans, then sings, and rides me at night
to the sound of my father’s voice
Video: Rambling with Eileen Myles
Director Chelsea McMullan takes an inspirational walk with legendary American poet, essayist and one-time presidential candidate Eileen Myles, perambulating and talking poetry through the streets of their adoptive home of New York. (running time: 5 min.)
Ralph Waldo Emerson: Self-Reliance
There is a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion.
Emily Dickinson: How happy is the little stone
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity—
Majid Naficy: The Engraver
You put on your eyeglasses
And read me your daughter’s will
Word by word.
Dawn Potter| Nocturne: A Marriage
In the ancient night
the vines of summer choke
breath choke memory
blooms fatten and fall
Steve Kowit: Intifada
bekippad Sabras dance thru the Tel Aviv streets chanting
gleefully: No school tomorrow in Gaza; all of their children are dead.
Linda Parsons: Checkers with my Granddaughter
She’s not out for blood but, like her father,
a natural strategist and soon has me
in her grasp.
Video: Ode to Desolation
Jim Henterly mans the historic fire tower on Desolation Peak, where he safeguards not only the surrounding national park lands, but the proud and passionate history of his profession.
Jose Padua: Silent Tongues in the House of the Rising Sun
what’s even more beautiful
is that tonight in my small sleepy town
I can look up to the sky and see
a deep blue silence surrounding
a half, nearly see-through moon
