Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Earbug
Ah, it’s back. It hadn’t hummed in my head for years —
that achingly joyful accordion tango.
Wayne Karlin: Because You Are Not Here
Because you are not here
you are always here
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Dusk
Yet, while time takes its time to steal the light,
another music stirs, as if memory’s notes
had escaped their staff, & the past came to sing
beside me of its ordinary moments
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Lately,
Do you believe at times that a moment chooses
you to remember it entirely & tell about it —
so that it may live again?
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Godwit Beach
Remember? It was late in the afternoon,
we walked a while along these limestone cliffs,
under the silver ghosts of eucalyptus trees.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: After a Night of Rain
So I stop my busy nothingnesses & sit a while
at my good table, by the white bowl
edged golden by the sun.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Complaint About Missing Friends after Ten Months of the Pandemic
Verlaine threw pail after pail after
cold water pail on the gravel under Rimbaud’s
windows, to cool the air as he slept.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Parentage
I’m from the ocean’s melancholy, dragging
its anchors back & forth, never quiet, never
still, waves so restless they can’t mirror the moon.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Then, you stop
Then, you stop weeping. Lift your face from your hands.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Clouds Heave
His cat mourned better than I, lying
on her side for weeks across his room’s threshold
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Some evenings
Some evenings, he would hide his face in his hands
for a few seconds —
Vox Populi: You are invited
You are invited to attend a reading by some of the most talented poets in the country. The time is 8pmET Tuesday, March 2.