The Geek Who Understands You
Writing –Howard Nemerov From The Collected Poems of Howard Nemerov The cursive crawl, the squared-off characters these by themselves delight, even without a meaning, in a foreign language, in Chinese, for instance, or when skaters curve all day across the…
I didn’t know the origin of “laugh and the world laughs with you” ’til I saw this poem in my inbox today. I don’t share Wilcox’s beliefs, but it’s a fairly good poem. Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850–1919) Laugh,…
Love Poem –Linda Pastan From The Imperfect Paradise I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand on its dangerous banks and watch it carry with it every twig every dry…
My Son –Susan Cataldo From drenched: selected poems of Susan Cataldo 1979-1999 I love this messy room you live in The plants you care for The nickels & dimes & pennies you pile Up on your desk like no-good money…
Winter Song –Aaron Kramer From Wicked Times Under a willow close by a brook her lap for a pillow her eyes for a book she like a drummer practiced her art all spring and all summer- the drum was my…
What’s in My Journal –William Stafford From Crossing Unmarked Snow: Further Views on the Writer’s Vocation Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean Things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand. But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable. Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous…
Ganked without shame from slow_poke_poly A New Constellation –Marge Piercy We go intertwined, him and you and me, her and him, you and her, each the center of our own circle of attraction and compulsion and gravity. What a constellation…
How I Came To Drink My Grandmother’s Piano by Kathleen Norris It has to do with giving, and with letting go, with how the earth rotates on its axis to make an oblate spheroid. It has to do with how…
Happiness –Jane Kenyon From Otherwise New & Selected Poems There’s just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your feet having squandered a fortune far away. And…
Yes by William Stafford From The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems It could happen any time, tornado, earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen. Or sunshine, love, salvation. It could you know. That’s why we wake and look out–no guarantees…
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