For our fathers, from Poetry, December 2016.
from The Mask Now / by Jorie Graham
In last week wore red sleepmask over eyes day and night. Would
ride it up onto his forehead for brief intervals, then down, pulled by
hand that still worked. A bit. Sometimes shaking too much so just
For rose of salt and carnations, from poetryfoundation.org.
from One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII / by Pablo Neruda, translated by Mark Eisner
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
For after the big meal, from Poetry, the December 2016 issue, which arrived in the mail today!
from After the Dinner Party / by Adrienne Su
Dropping napkins, corks, and non-compostables
into the trash, I see that friends have mistaken
my everyday chopsticks for disposables.
PIA: from November 24, 2014.
For art and rain, from Poetry Magazine: The Translation Issue, November 2014. More here:
from The Museum / by Yves Bonnefoy, translated by Mary Ann Caws
I took refuge in a museum. Outside the great wind mixed with
water reigns alone from now on, shaking the glass panes.
For the season, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Fall, leaves, fall / by Emily Brontë
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
PIA: from November 27,2015.
For trees, from The Complete Poems of Howard Nemerov.
from Learning the Trees / by Howard Nemerov (1920-1991)
And think also how funny knowledge is:
You may succeed in learning many trees
And calling off their names as you go by,
But their comprehensive silence stays the same.
For I’m ever thankful for family and friends here and passed on, and ever thankful for our sun and moon and Earth and for poets and poetry and for John Berryman, especially The Dream Songs.
from The Dream Songs: 30 / by John Berryman
Is there anyone in the audience who has lived in vain?