Michael Simms: Love
When I was a child, my mother told me
God has many faces
And She reveals Herself
In many ways.
Rainer Maria Rilke: Archaic Torso of Apollo
there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.
Michael Simms: Dogsbody to the Muse
Sometimes it’s painful to watch a group of poets trying to work a room as if they were politicians. The AWP conference, as the wag put it, is comprised of 15,000 introverts pretending to be extroverts.
Michael Simms: On the Spectrum with Garrison Keillor
Many of the issues people have had with Keillor’s behavior through the years may have been caused by his autism.
Pablo Neruda: I’m explaining a few things
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain
Lynn Emanuel: Some Notes on Intoxication and Simile
If my mother had not been an alcoholic, I might not have been a poet.
Michael Simms: Our Father who art in flowers
Our Father who art in me
You are the One I love
The One who hurt me
The One who seeks the truth
Michael Simms: Swamp Thing
The next morning I rode my bicycle to Wolf Corner where coyotes and dogs were
Hung on a wooden rack to discourage coyotes
Michael Simms: Blurbing Jose
Jose Padua’s poems are the twitch of the tail of the cat stalking the mouse of your unconscious.
Tales of the Holy Man
Word spread across the countryside about the wise Holy Man who lived in a small house atop the mountain. A man from the village decided to make the long and … Continue reading
Michael Simms: Four poems tracing an arc of forgiveness with real world examples
I was so sick of myself
Tired of everything tainted with myself.
Banksy: Don’t Forget To Eat Your Lunch And Make Some Trouble
“We can’t do anything to change the world until capitalism crumbles. In the meantime, we should all go shopping to console ourselves.” — Banksy
Michael Simms: The Happiness of Animals
When the soul-sickness takes me And my mind is in an ugly place And I resent other writers their success, I retire to my attic room To look out the … Continue reading
Michael Simms: The Garden and the Drone
We come to the garden because it is beautiful. Arborvitae, hydrangea, anemone— Even the names are beautiful. . The men who call themselves our leaders Seem far away. We feel … Continue reading
