Catherine Anderson: Diana’s Arrow
Nearby, I saw oak leaves
had settled like a helmet of ash on a statue
of Diana—protector of children,
women, all living things—the deity
whose arrow never misses.
Adam Patric Miller: Passing Through The Intersection
It made no sense to see him. He wore the leather coat he used to wear, an 8-ball on the back. Maybe this happens when you don’t acknowledge death.
Murray Silverstein: Dante in Auschwitz, Ulysses in Hell
The storm that swirls in God’s dark heart,
our poor boat tossed, and sank, my crew & I all lost.
Mike Schneider: Elvis Night at Johnny’s
You wanted anything by Elvis, large
as kinetic energy, like the wiggle-waggle
of ocean breeze through palm fronds.
Hosanna. Jesus cruising down
the Avenue on his ass
Nolo Segundo: Delusions of Progress
It struck me some years ago when I saw cave paintings in France from 40,000 years ago that people then were just as intelligent as we are.
Rev. John Dear: ‘Carry your light out into the shitstorm’ — a conversation with Joan Baez
Legendary singer and activist Joan Baez discusses the essential role of music in movements, the need to keep our eyes on the prize — and to keep dancing.
Naomi Shihab Nye: Every day as a wide field, every page
And there were so many more poems to read!
Countless friends to listen to.
We didn’t have to be in the same room—
the great modern magic.
Elizabeth Romero: Morning
My friend Peter and I
Argued about love one time
Before he died.
Michael Simms: The Crows
We barely recognized ourselves
But the crows knew
Who we were and where we’d been
Why we returned
The True Story of Thanksgiving
The Thanksgiving story you know probably goes like this: English Pilgrims, seeking religious freedom, landed in Plymouth, Massachusetts, where they found a rich land full of animals and were greeted … Continue reading
Robinson Jeffers: Hurt Hawk
I’d sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk; but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bones too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.
Adam Patric Miller: Blood Orange
How do you get ideas for your poems? The visiting poet says he goes into the woods to catch a deer but always comes back with a rabbit or a … Continue reading
Sean Sexton: Shirts
And now I come to wear your clothes, shirts
that no longer fit, you barely wore in the end
arranged in piles to divide and sort, of
three sizes—which was the measure of you?
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: The Garden
Because everything I learned from the stained
glass windows I was told to kneel under
still remains thorned & stained & torn,
& all the teachings I was told to believe, still
leave me dis-believing & I wish it were not so —
