Falling | Carl Phillips There’s a meadow I can’t stop coming back to, any more than I can stop calling it a sacred grove—isn’t that what it was, once? A lot of resonance, trees asway with declarations whose traced-on-the-air patterns the grasses also traced, more…
poetry
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Poetry Friday: Riveted | Sarah Robyn
Riveted | Sarah Robyn It is possible that things will not get better than they are now, or have been known to be. It is possible that we are past the middle now. It is possible that we have crossed the great water without knowing…
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Poetry Friday: Knowing the Earth | Nancy Wood
Knowing the Earth | Nancy Wood To know the Earth on a first-name basis You must know the meaning of river stones first. Find a place that calls to you and there Lie face down in the grass until you feel Each plant alive with…
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Poetry Friday: Gravity | Maura O’Connor
Gravity | Maura O’Connor Today I am fragile pale twitching insane and full of purpose. I’m thinking of my lover: my soft hips pressing his coarse belly, my tongue on a salmon nipple, his hand buried in my thick orange hair the telephone ringing. I’m…
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Poetry Friday: The Abandoned Valley | Jack Gilbert
The Abandoned Valley | Jack Gilbert Can you understand being alone so long you would go out in the middle of the night and put a bucket into the well so you could feel something down there tug at the other end of the rope?
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Poetry Friday: Wait | Galway Kinnell
Wait | Galway Kinnel Wait, for now. Distrust everything, if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now? Personal events will become interesting again. Hair will become interesting. Pain will become interesting. Buds that open out of season…
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Poetry Friday: Antilamentation | Dorianne Laux
Antilamentation | Dorianne Laux Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read to the end just to find out who killed the cook. Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark, in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication. Not the lover you…
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Poetry Friday: Stations | Audre Lorde
Stations | Audre Lorde Some women love to wait for life for a ring in the June light for a touch of the sun to heal them for another woman’s voice to make them whole to untie their hands put words in their mouths form…
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Poetry Friday: Introduction to Poetry | Billy Collins
Introduction to Poetry | Billy Collins I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem and watch him probe his way…