For gathering the passing moments, from the September 16th entry of Poem A Day, Volume 2.
from Miniature / by Yannis Ritsos, translated by Edmund Keeley
…with its little yellow wheels of lemon
parked for so many years on a side street with unlit lamps,
then a small song, a little mist, and then nothing?
For Homecoming day & night, from Poem A Day, Volume 2.
from Ashboughs / by Gerard Manley Hopkins
They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep
The smouldering enormous winter welkin!
For a day late, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The Milk One / by Anthony Madrid
He spoke Miaow. He spoke Moo and Gnu and Ha.
He spoke three kinds of Chickenhawk and the thirty dialects of Baa.
For sis, from The Sleep Book.
from The Sleep Book / by Dr. Seuss
Way out in the west, in the town of Mercedd,
The Hinkle-Horn Honking Club just went to bed.
For 9/11, the September 11th entry, from Poem A Day: Volume 2.
from #280 / by Emily Dickinson
I felt a Funeral in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading — treading — till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through __
For our many worries over our friends and our friends’ homes in Florida, from Poetry, March 1918.
from The Hurricane / by Baker Brownell
The wind, night, rain,
With huge onwardness,
West, south, east, north, poured itself
Bitterly on the flat earth.
For the Swedish poets, from A Star by My Head, poems translated by Malena Mörling and Jonas Ellerström.
from Poetics / by Gunnar Ekelöf
What I have written
is written between the lines