Ellery Akers: Our Grief for the Earth is Hidden
When I was born
I thought I’d be taken from the earth
I didn’t think the earth would be taken from me
March 16, 2020 · Leave a comment
Michael Simms: Antbed
You may remember my father
died when I was eight
my mother closed up
the house and we went to stay
with my grandmother for a few months
November 17, 2019 · 6 Comments
Judith Vollmer: House Spiders
Maya, weaver of illusions,
how is it we trust the web, the nest,
the roof over our heads, we trust the stars
our guardians who gave us our alphabet?
October 30, 2019 · 1 Comment
James Wright: A Blessing
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
September 13, 2019 · 2 Comments
James Wright: Depressed by a Book of Bad Poetry, I Walk Toward an Unused Pasture and Invite the Insects to Join Me
The old grasshoppers
Are tired, they leap heavily now,
Their thighs are burdened.
I want to hear them, they have clear sounds to make.
August 30, 2019 · 12 Comments
