A Discussion with Anne Feeney & Utah Phillips
I think of the sound of factories in the voice
of an old boyfriend from The Cass Corridor –
cocoon of his attic bedroom, mattress on the floor,
candle light and books in that long season of snow
My carry-on flagged for protein
bars that might be plastique, & I failed
the swab test, some residue battery acid
or fertilizer on my fingertips.
The U.S. has a history of sterilizing women without their knowledge or permission, but states are working to make up for past mistakes.
Come with me
to the river again: we will test Heraclitus,
kiss deep at the tender point of sleepless change.
If we do succeed in destroying ourselves, it seems increasingly likely that it will be by fire, whether the accelerating heating of the globe over decades, or a nuclear conflagration any time we choose. The good news, the flame of hope, is that we still have time — at least 100 seconds — to prevent it.
I saw the cell where the Jesuit priest Maximilian Kolbe starved to near death as he attended to nine others, all Jews. He was later executed. The space isn’t bigger than my walk-in closet.
I did everything right, but I perpetually had very little money.
Here’s to the blood that wasn’t shed,
That still courses through hearts and
The center of America is not Washington, D.C. The center of America is the neighborhoods where 330 million Americans are raising their kids and trying to put food on the table and trying to love their neighbor. That’s the center of America.
President-elect Joe Biden, poet Elizabeth Alexander, psychologist Angela Duckworth, and a chorus of working fathers and sons join Poetry in America host Elisa New to reflect on Robert Hayden’s sonnet “Those Winter Sundays.”
Jamira Burley should be another product of the system. Instead, she has used the tragedies of her life to reshape her community, and disrupt the status quo.
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.