Yehoshua November: Driving Back to College in a Storm
And as I entered the onramp and the highway curved,
I realized I’d forgotten the wayfarer’s prayer.
Kathryn Levy: The Gaza Poems
Death to the Arabs—death
to the children, who keep
crouching in the cupboards.
Sara Teasdale: There Will Come Soft Rains
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white
Gary Fincke: Scattering
From six to ten pounds, our cremains
Will weigh, the visible fragments
White or gray, the largest pieces
Ground to sand-size for discretion
And the ease of our scattering.
Edwin Arlington Robinson: Richard Cory
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
Majid Naficy: Ezzat’s Last Will & A Memory of Ezzat
I want only to say that life’s beauties are never forgettable.
Lisa Zimmerman: Loft
She returns as a red-winged blackbird or maybe
all three blackbirds swinging now on the feeder
Rachel Hadas: Ghost Guest
I sometimes think I recognize the face
of my own death. Knowing it is nearer
makes me feel it ought to be familiar,
a neutral guest I’ve seen somewhere before.
James Crews: At the Monastery
I want to ask: Would you bow
to the blown-open peony, its petals
strewn like slips of silk in the grass
after last night’s storm?
Michael Simms: Against Prayer
Okay,
God of crib death
and dirty needles,
of heroin and fentanyl,
God of twisted steel
burning beside the road
Jean Toomer: Banking Coal
Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way
Robert Wrigley: Fifth Morning
But sun-shimmered, it’s a very nice
light to watch a day arrive through,
rainbowed red and gold and silver-blue.
Arlene Weiner | Dear Editor:
We’ve subscribed to your magazine for a long time. We remember your recommendations for canned tomatoes and comparison of the nutritive value of brands of store bread, when those were … Continue reading
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: First Day of the Year
It is early. A bird flies deep into the sky —
into that large silence
