Edward Harkness: Pelicans Diving
They skim so close to waves
they must themselves be waves.
Kim Ports Parsons: I Can’t Write a Poem with a Gun
a fox steps lightly into the yard,
and shakes off the dew from the meadow,
and cocks her head, nose quivering
Robert Wrigley: Self-Pity
Sometimes, in private—another room at least,
another building all the better—you can bask
in the balm and rage of it, you can as a dog does
roll in it like a dead fish on the grass
Video: Black Mountain College and Charles Olson
the thing you’re after
may lie around the bend
of the nest (second, time slain, the bird! the bird!
Amy Lowell: A Decade
When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Molly Fisk: Death, Herself
UNDRESS, SHE SAID by Doug Anderson, Four Way Books, Tribeca 2022, 102 pages, $17.95 . . You might think, opening Doug Anderson’s fourth poetry collection Undress, She Said, that a man … Continue reading
James Crews: A Few Things I Have Learned
Watching birds will save you on a daily basis—the shaggy barred owl clinging to a pine branch with its deadly claws, eyes lazing in the glaze of a winter morning, head swiveling back and forth.
Michelle Bitting: In the Museum of the Dream Where I Am Falling from the Sky
And waking, realize I’ve gotten my suffering all wrong.
Laura McCullough: Another Winter Sunday (with passive aggression)
alone inside
the diminishing body, wanting
any attention he can get
Carolyn Miller: Rapture
When they said the world was coming to an end,
I thought about my brother, his long limbs,
his good shoulders and thick hair, his small
white teeth, his beautiful feet at the end
of the hospital bed.
Video: Vegan Poem
At the current turning point in our relationship with the earth, Federico García Lorca’s vision of the injustice in our mistreatment of animals is even more poignant.
Robinson Jeffers: The Treasure
That silence is the thing, this noise a found word for it;
interjection, a jump of the breath at that silence
Edward Harkness: Two Rondeaux
Each time we kiss, love, it’s the first kiss.
The others? Gone. Some I well recall.
More and more I repeated myself. Even this
note to sparrows, willows, summer and fall.
