Poem: Invocation

Invo­ca­tion by Mau­rya Simon O God–who art dust mote and fern spore, salt crys­tal and dog-star, who art refin­ery smoke, cumu­lus, leaf-rot, dish­wa­ter and spin­drift– how can I know thy invis­i­ble move­ments through this world, when thou inhab­it even the debris of lives, the…

Poem: Song

Song by John Cia­r­di The bells of Sun­day rang us down And flow­ers were blow­ing across the town Through faucets of the sun turned on. For Mary’s gig­gle and Martha’s glance The bankrolls flashed from pants to pants, The Cap­tain did a High­land dance.…

Poem: God is in the Cracks

God is in the Cracks –Robert Sward “Just a tiny crack sep­a­rates this world from the next, and you step over it        every day, God is in the cracks.” Foot propped up, nurse hov­er­ing, phone ring­ing. “Relax and breathe from your heels. Now,…

Poem: Permanently

Perma­nent­ly –Ken­neth Koch One day the Nouns were clus­tered in the street. An Adjec­tive walked by, with her dark beau­ty. The Nouns were struck, moved, changed. The next day a Verb drove up, and cre­at­ed the Sen­tence. Each Sen­tence says one…

This Is Now

This is now By John Isbell Writ­ing slow­ly means savour­ing each word. There is no need to cor­rect, but it is sweet to pause, and remem­ber what has come and what is com­ing. Even for a long time. In that time, let your breathing…

Poem: To David, About His Education


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This poem caused me to think of live­fal­con and whom­p­wil­lowa­cad. To David, About His Edu­ca­tion –by Howard Nemerov The world is full of most­ly invis­i­ble things, And there is no way but putting the mind’s eye, Or its nose, in…

Two Poems

They may suck, but since I had to write them for an assign­ment I fig­ured I’d share them here as well. Sum­mer Camp You dash to your new home Guid­ed by smells bug spray and sun­screen Girls’ voic­es squeal­ing, laugh­ing Hid­den by…

Poem: Waking

Waking by Stephen Dobyns Wak­ing, I look at you sleep­ing beside me. It is ear­ly and the baby in her crib has begun her con­ver­sa­tion with the gods that direct her, coo­ing and mak­ing small hoots. Watch­ing you, I see how your face…

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