January 2012
4 posts
Jan 25th
7,186 notes
1 tag
'Sci-Fi' by Tracy K. Smith →
Jan 7th
2 tags
'September Elegies' by Randall Mann →
Jan 6th
1 tag
'Vision' by Erika Funkhouser →
Jan 6th
December 2011
16 posts
1 tag
'Dependants' by Paul Farley →
Dec 27th
1 tag
'Reprise' by Deborah Brown →
Dec 27th
1 tag
'Becoming Weather, 21' by Chris Martin →
Dec 27th
6 notes
1 tag
'U-District Incident Report' by Heather McHugh →
Dec 25th
1 tag
'Forever War' by Nate Pritts →
Dec 25th
1 tag
'Confetti Allegiance: Love Letter to Jim Brodey'... →
Dec 25th
1 tag
'Architectural Masks' by Thomas Hardy
I  There is a house with ivied walls,  And mullioned windows worn and old,  And the long dwellers in those halls  Have souls that know but sordid calls,  And dote on gold.  II  In a blazing brick and plated show  Not far away a ‘villa’ gleams,  And here a family few may know,  With book and pencil, viol and bow,  Lead inner lives of dreams.  III  The philosophic passers say, ...
Dec 23rd
1 tag
'Their Sex Life' by A. R. Ammons
One failure on Top of another
Dec 23rd
1 tag
'Continuity' by A. R. Ammons
I’ve pressed so far away from my desire that if you asked  me what I want I would, accepting the harmonious completion of the  drift, say annihilation, probably. 
Dec 23rd
5 notes
1 tag
'A Brief Attachment' by Cate Marvin
I regard your affection, find your teeth have left me a bruise necklace. The lipstick marks     leech a trail, ear to ear, facsimile your smile.     Your 40 ounces of malt beverage, your shrink hate, your eyes dialing 911. The hearts you draw with ballpoint on my cigarette packs     when I’ve left the room, penned in your girl’s cursive, look demented, misshapen approximations of what I refuse to...
Dec 23rd
5 notes
1 tag
'Confessions: My Father, Hummingbirds, and Franz...
Every effort is made to bring the colonised person to admit the inferiority of his culture… —Franz Fanon And there are days when storms hover Over my house, their brooding just this side of rage,  An open hand about to slap a face. You won’t believe me When I tell you it is not personal. It isn’t. It only feels That way because the face is yours. So what if it is the only Face...
Dec 13th
1 note
1 tag
'Designer Kisses' by Major Jackson
I’m glum about your sportive flesh in the empire of blab, and the latest guy running his trendy tongue like a tantalizing surge over your molars, how droll. Love by a graveyard is redundant, but the skin is an obstacle course like Miami where we are  inescapably consigned: tourists keeping the views new. What as yet we desire, our own fonts of adoration. By morning, we’re laid out like...
Dec 13th
1 tag
'After Baby After Baby' by Rachel Zucker
When we made love you had  the dense body of a Doberman and the square head of a Rottweiler. With my eyes closed I saw:  a light green plate with seared scallops and a perfect fillet of salmon on a cedar plank. Now I am safe in the deep V of a weekday  wanting to tell you how the world  is full of street signs and strollers and pregnant women in spandex. The bed and desk both want me.  The...
Dec 13th
1 note
1 tag
'Heart Condition' by Jericho Brown
I don’t want to hurt a man, but I like to hear one beg.  Two people touch twice a month in ten hotels, and We call it long distance. He holds down one coast.  I wander the other like any African American, Africa  With its condition and America with its condition And black folk born in this nation content to carry  Half of each. I shoulder my share. My man flies  To touch me. Sky on our side....
Dec 12th
2 notes
4 tags
'Antique' by Arthur Rimbaud
Graceful son of Pan! Around your forehead crowned with small flowers and berries, your eyes, precious spheres, are moving. Spotted with brownish wine lees, your cheeks grow hollow. Your fangs are gleaming. Your chest is like a lyre, jingling sounds circulate between your blond arms. Your heart beats in that belly where the double sex sleeps. Walk at night, gently moving that thigh, that second...
Dec 10th
2 notes
3 tags
'Here' by Wislawa Szymborska
I can’t speak for elsewhere, but here on Earth we’ve got a fair supply of everything. Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows, scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins, teacups, dams, and quips.   There may be more of everything elsewhere, but for reasons left unspecified they lack paintings, picture tubes, pierogies, handkerchiefs for tears.   Here we have countless places with...
Dec 9th
4 notes
November 2011
11 posts
Nov 25th
11 notes
Nov 25th
1 tag
'The Double-Bed Dream Gallows' by Richard...
Driving through hot brushy country the late autumn, I saw a hawk crucified on a barbed-wire fence. I guess as a kind of advertisement to other hawks, saying from the pages of a leading women’s magazine, “She’s beautiful, but burn all the maps to your body. I’m not here of my own choosing.”
Nov 25th
4 notes
1 tag
'He Made This Screen' by Marianne Moore →
Nov 23rd
1 tag
'Love Is Not All' by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned...
Nov 19th
2 notes
1 tag
'Ambition' by Loren Goodman
When music moves away From dance, atrophy sets in When poetry moves away  From music, atrophy sets in I want one of those Trophies
Nov 19th
1 tag
'White Night' by Anna Akhmatova
I haven’t locked the door, Nor lit the candles, You don’t know, don’t care, That tired I haven’t the strength To decide to go to bed. Seeing the fields fade in The sunset murk of pine-needles, And to know all is lost, That life is a cursed hell:  I’ve got drunk On your voice in the doorway. I was sure you’d come back.
Nov 19th
5 notes
1 tag
'War Poet' by Sidney Keynes
I am the man who looked for peace and found My own eyes barbed. I am the man who groped for words and found An arrow in my hand. I am the builder whose firm walls surround A slipping land. When I grow sick or mad Mock me not nor chain me; When I reach for the wind Cast me not down Though my face is a burnt book And a wasted town.
Nov 19th
4 notes
1 tag
'Your Brain Is Yours' by Natalie Lyalin
I am baptized by coins with a faint smell of elderflower. I transfigure, blink in one part of the house and then another. A holy night unfolds and stands weakly. A child chemist mixes a star in a test tube. Glass shatters lightly. I am a saint. I soothe with marmalade and tonic. I embroider a pillow and give it a squeeze. I attach a heavy gold necklace to a horse rump. We clang along across the...
Nov 11th
1 tag
'First Light Edging Cirrus' by Jane Hirshfield
1025 molecules are enough  to call woodthrush or apple. A hummingbird, fewer. A wristwatch: 1024. An alphabet’s molecules, tasting of honey, iron, and salt, cannot be counted— as some strings, untouched, sound when a near one is speaking. As it was when love slipped inside us. It looked out face to face in every direction. Then it was inside the tree, the rock, the cloud.
Nov 11th
1 tag
'In Flanders Fields' by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies grow Between the crosses, row on row,  That mark our place, and in the sky,  The larks, still bravely singing, fly,  Scarce heard amid the guns below.  We are the dead; short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,  Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.  Take up our quarrel with the foe!  To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be...
Nov 11th
October 2011
1 post
1 tag
Oct 18th
1 note
September 2011
3 posts
1 tag
'Autumn' by Amy Lowell
They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia, Opulent, flaunting. Round gold Flung out of a pale green stalk. Round, ripe gold Of maturity, Meticulously frilled and flaming, A fire-ball of proclamation: Fecundity decked in staring yellow For all the world to see. They brought a quilled, yellow dahlia, To me who am barren Shall I send it to you, You who have taken with you All I once possessed?
Sep 25th
1 tag
'playing with fire' by Evie Shockley →
(I don’t like to offer commentary or give captions to the poems I post but holy fuck, this really blew me away)
Sep 25th
1 tag
'To be the thing' by Dorothea Lasky
To be the name uttered, but not to have the burden to be To be the name said, but not heard To not breathe anymore, to be the thing To be the thing being breathed To not be about to die, to be already dead To not have to disappoint To not have the burden of being late Or punctual To not eat, to not have to eat To not feel anything To not be the one whose affect is criticized To not pick...
Sep 25th
August 2011
10 posts
1 tag
'The Hurricane' by William Carlos Williams
The tree lay down on the garage roof and stretched, You have your heaven, it said, go to it.
Aug 28th
1 note
1 tag
'Lighthouse' by Alfred Corn
Pilot at the helm of a hidden headland it steers free from convergence with the freighter when fog and storm clouds gather Sparking communiqué no full stop ends its broadcast performed in a three-sixty sweep the cycle burning up five solar seconds Midnight eye that blinks away invisibility a high beam revealing as it scans whatever seas or ships return terra firma’s landmark gaze 
Aug 22nd
1 tag
'Bantams in Pine-Woods' by Wallace Stevens
Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the sun Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail. Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal. Your world is you. I am my world. You ten-foot poet among inchlings. Fat! Begone! An inchling bristles in these pines, Bristles, and points their Appalachian tangs, And fears not portly Azcan nor his hoos.
Aug 22nd
1 tag
'Each year' by Dora Malech
                  I snap the twig to try to trap the springing and I relearn the same lesson. You cannot make a keepsake of this season.  Your heart’s not the source of that sort of sap, lacks what it takes to fuel, rejects the graft, though for a moment it’s your guilty fist  that’s flowering. You’re no good host to this extremity that points now, broken, back at the dirt...
Aug 22nd
1 tag
from 'The Book of Hours', by Rainer Maria Rilke
It’s as if I’m pushing through massive mountains through hard veins, like solitary ore; and I’m so deep that I can see no end and no distance: everything became nearness and all the nearness turned to stone. I’m still a novice in the realm of pain, — so this enormous darkness makes me small; But if it’s You — steel yourself, break in:  that your whole hand will grip me and my whole scream will...
Aug 8th
27 notes
1 tag
'Cruelty' by Lucille Clifton
cruelty. don’t talk to me about cruelty or what i am capable of. and i killed them. i took a broom to their country and smashed and sliced without warning without stopping and i smiled all the time i was doing it. it was a holocaust of roaches, bodies, parts of bodies, red all over the ground. i didn’t ask their names. they had no names worth knowing. now i watch myself whenever i enter a...
Aug 3rd
60 notes
1 tag
Aug 3rd
693 notes
1 tag
'Tsiang' by Sarah Tsiang
My name is a speech impediment. A thick tongue. It smells like fish; like cooking in closed quarters, hand-me-downs and the hung-head shuffle of names that don’t want to change for gym class. Names that expose the black hair, the unfamiliar gait of a body that doesn’t quite fit. My name is the new kid stuck at the front of the class, wishing for the anonymity of a desk while the...
Aug 1st
9 tags
The Guardian online: poetry workshop - names →
Several great Guardian online poetry workshop poems about names.
Aug 1st
1 note
1 tag
'Meat Council Pronouncements' by Judy Prince
Pork has chosen to call itself gammon exclusively. It has also marketed a new dish called Gammon Stew containing 90 grams of potato to 1 gram of gammon.  These Gammon Stews sell especially well now that Pork  has decreed peas and onions unnecessary.  Beef continues to enjoy the name “Steak” despite being mostly fat and gristle. Steak and Mushroom pies pride themselves on not being ...
Aug 1st
July 2011
15 posts
1 tag
'Trip Hop' by Geoffrey Brock
I’ll pack my toothbrush and my cyanide molar the iPhone the car-seats and a tactical stroller I’ll pack a snack-bag with the Kraft food groups and white flags for me and black for my troops I’ll pack a fresh pack of Shark double-edge blades my boy’s Razr scooter and my girl’s blue shades I’ll pack doses of patience and some Kevlar smiles check our air and our...
Jul 21st
1 note
1 tag
'The Pressure of the Moment' by Dara Wier
The pressure of the moment can cause someone to kill    someone or something The leniency of consideration might treat with more    kindness Which is to be desired. Or at least often to be desired. But if my house is on fire and you notice, I wish you would    kill That fire. But if my hair is on fire, while I’m sure     you’ll be enjoying The spectacle of it, act quickly or...
Jul 21st
1 tag
'The Bottom' by Denise Duhamel
I stopped drinking on my way down the hill to the liquor store when two guys pulled up and tried to drag me into their pickup. I crossed the street then ran in the opposite direction, puffing against the incline. The stranger thrust into reverse  and, when I wouldn’t talk to him, threw a bag of McDonald’s trash at me, Stuck up bitch. I stopped drinking when I realized I was fighting  for the...
Jul 21st
1 tag
'Trigger Guard' by Joanna Fuhrman
Everyone I ever loved is standing  on a platform with a gun.  In the cartoon version, a flag pops  with the word ‘bang.’  In the soap opera version,  my face turns the color of merlot.  In the haiku version,  metal gleams in the narrow shadow. In the Republican version,  two guns wrap themselves in a single flag. In the Langpo version. idolatry yips yaps paradigm the.  In my diary...
Jul 21st
6 notes
1 tag
from 'Broetry' by Brian McGackin →
(I really want this book now)
Jul 19th