The Archipelago Of Kisses | Jeffrey McDaniel We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don’t grow on trees, like in the old days. So where does one find love? When you’re sixteen it’s easy, like being unleashed with a credit card in a…
poetry
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Poetry Friday: Burning Oneself In | Adrienne Rich
Read moreBurning Oneself In | Adrienne Rich In a bookstore on the East Side I read a veteran’s testimony: the running down for no reason of an old woman in South Vietnam by a U.S. Army truck The heat-wave is over Lifeless, sunny, the East Side…
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Poetry: Another Poem About the Heart | Jenn Habel
Read moreAnother Poem About the Heart | Jenn Habel When the floor drops out, as it has now, you cannot hear the squirrel on the wire outside your window, the wheels spinning on the road below. You want only pity and are presented with the unbelievable…
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Poetry Friday: won’t you celebrate with me | Lucille Clifton
Read morewon’t you celebrate with me | Lucille Clifton won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up…
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Poetry Friday: Falling | Carl Phillips
Read moreFalling | 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…
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Poetry Friday: Riveted | Sarah Robyn
Read moreRiveted | 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
Read moreKnowing 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
Read moreGravity | 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
Read moreThe 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?