Poem: The Dark Night (XVIII)

The Dark Night (XVIII) –May Sin­clair Our love is woven Of a thou­sand strands— The cool fra­grance of the first lilac At morn­ing, The first dew on the grass, The smell of wild mint in the wood, The pun­gent and earthy smell of ground…

Poem: pity this busy monster, manunkind

pity this busy mon­ster, manunkind –e. e. cum­mings pity this busy mon­ster, manunkind, not. Progress is a com­fort­able dis­ease: your vic­tim (death and life safe­ly beyond) plays with the big­ness of his lit­tle­ness — elec­trons deify one razor­blade into a…

Poem: Gratitude List

Grat­i­tude List –Nao­mi Shi­hab Nye Thank you for insult­ing me. You helped me see how much I was worth. Thank you for over­look­ing my human­i­ty. In that moment I gained pow­er. To be for­got­ten by the wider world and the right­eous reli­gious and the weaponized…

Poem : Blue Like That

Blue Like That –Ger­ald Stern She was a dar­ling with her ros­es, though what I like is laven­der for I can dry it and noth­ing is blue like that, so here I am, in my arms a bou­quet of trag­ic laven­der, the whole his­to­ry of…

Poem: High, Higher, Highest

High, High­er, High­est Samuel Hazo Viewed from space, the world’s imper­son­al.                      France appears, but no French­men.                                           Then Ger­many, with­out one Ger­man.                                                     Regard­less, the rich­est man on earth pays three hun­dred thou­sand for a ten-minute flight by rock­et at three thou­sand miles…

Poem: Gifts

Gifts Kirk Wil­son I kept my life in a small room with pale blue walls and brought it back lit­tle presents from the world This is for you I would say This is for you Some­times the gifts died in my hands and often I could not pay the…

Poem: Götterdämmerung

Götter­däm­merung –Rita Dove From On the Bus with Rosa Parks A straw reed climbs the car anten­na. Beyond the tint­ed glass, gold­en waves of grain. Gol­ly! I can’t help exclaim­ing, and he smirks— my born-again nat­u­ral­ist son with his souped-up lap­top, dear prodi­gy who insists…

Poem: Death By Wind

Death By Wind –Ger­ald Stern From Save the Last Dance As for those who face their death by wind and call it by the weird name of for­give­ness they alone have the right to mar­ry birds, and those who stopped them­selves from falling down by…

Poem: Yellow Glove

Yellow Glove –Nao­mi Shi­hab Nye From Yel­low Glove, reprint­ed in Words Under the Words: Select­ed Poems What can a yel­low glove mean in a world of motor­cars and gov­ern­ments? I was small, like every­one. Life was a string of pre­cau­tions: Don’t kiss…

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