Farrar, Straus, Giroux
2026
daydreaming w/ Bob Arnold
SIX PAGES I
I dropped six pages of the Sunday newspaper
At the edge of the field
and the wind blew away
Kings, princesses, whole
Countries, one presidential
election, and several
eminent letter writers
__________________________
Derek Jarman
A Finger in the Fishes Mouth
House Sparrow Press, 2024
First published 1972, Bettiscombe Press, Dorset, UK
Form
The mystery of what another man
sees
at the fall of a dress
separate sense
from the name "stefania."
Assassins
Where the move
to be here demands an undiscoverable
choice, sacred wait, season:
the shadows, in the listening,
at the edges of the face
stop in the solemnity
dividing dagger
from act.
Neither Point Nor Line
Like the drop, on the leaf, after the storm
only for the second time
he never knew anymore
because he wanted to be precise
till death
light zen, in the field,
the force that held the birds in flight
(an interruption and they would fall)
becomes the hell of counting them.
And The the Water
In the harvest too
the body was only lent
because it wanted to become
innocent in the end
and running
it didn't renounce
an anthology of gestures
the slender body
entering the princess's room
to love the first time.
Now she is unadorned
Now she is unadorned
and the years come to pass, in handfuls,
with the wit of shears and
an arrogance that draws
to the gas the mouth
persistent down to the spine
where it believes
or else the dead trudge toward a field
with a hollow head
and the myriads
hurl themselves into the baptism
for a breath.
_________________________
Milo De Angelis
Finite Intuition
Selected Poetry and Prose
Sun and Moon Press, 1995
On May 17, 1968 nine Vietnam War protesters including Daniel and Philip Berrigan, Marjoie and Thomas Melville, Tom Lewis, John Hogan, David Darcy, Mary Moylan and George Mische walked into a Catonsville, Maryland draft board office, grabbed hundreds of selective service records and burned them with homemade napalm.
April
And now the dust and the fine days,
An azure sky and walls ablaze
With burning light, long nights, no breeze,
And nothing green; a ruddy shine
Just barely stains, like a red wine,
The black branches of the large trees.
Upon me this fine weather weighs.
Only after long rainy days
Should spring then come, Nature's daughter,
Turning rosy and turning green,
Like a blooming nymph in a scene
Who, smiling, springs from the water.
__________________________
Gerard de Nerval
Little Castles of Bohemia
translated by Napoleon Jeffries
Wakefield Press 2025
Price: $45.00 (Registration Required)
The Kronos Quartet is joined by Merrill Garbus of Tune-Yards, Andy Cabic of Vetiver, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, Oliver Ray & No Land, Kim Stanley Robinson, Peter Coyote, Tongo Eisen-Martin, Dominique DiPrima, Brontez Purnell and Eleni Sikelianos to celebrate HOWL and Allen Ginsberg’s 100th Birthday.
Join us for an intimate evening of poetry and music celebrating Allen Ginsberg’s Centennial and the 70th anniversary of Howl and Other Poems,featuring Merrill Garbus of Tune-Yards, Andy Cabic of Vetiver, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, Oliver Ray & No Land, Kim Stanley Robinson, Peter Coyote, Tongo Eisen-Martin, Dominique DiPrima, Brontez Purnell and Eleni Sikelianos, culminating in a rare performance of Kronos Quartet’s Howl.
Curated and produced by Peter Hale and Jesse Goodman, in collaboration with the Allen Ginsberg Estate and (((folkYEAH!))).
Part of the Ginsberg Centennial, a global program of events across poetry, music, film, and performance.
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Oil
soft rainsqualls on the swells
south of the Bonins, late at night. Light
from the empty mess-hall
throws back bulky shadows
of winch and fairlead
over the slanting fantail where I stand.
but for men on watch in the engine room,
the man at the wheel, the lookout in the bow,
the crew sleeps. in cots on deck
or narrow iron bunks down drumming
passageways below.
the ship burns with a furnace heart
steam veins and copper nerves
quivers and slightly twists and always goes —
easy roll of the hull and deep
vibration of the turbine underfoot.
bearing what all these
crazed, hooked nations need:
steel plates and
long injections of pure oil.
___________________________
Gary Snyder
The Back Country
Fulcrum Press, 1967
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ~ GARY SNYDER
Inside these articulations
the beginnings of language
outside of yes and no
inside only the I want
the soul with the body meeting
in all the openly
meteoric leaves
and now, see:
one of them falls slowly
to the earth
_______________
Phoebe Giannisi
Cicada
translated by Brian Sneeden
New Directions 2022
Remember Sinbad
someone
remembers
Sinbad
and plunging
their hands into the water
believes they seize
a living
cloud.
What to Say
I think of the sordid streets of Casablanca
of the silent mornings
odors of Brazilian coffee
odors of rancid god
odors of bleeding dreams
I think of the too-recent day of death
and of madness
I think of those who go
far away to live out the end of a glacial tale
I think of those who stay
or who cannot go far away
or who are shut in, cut off from the sundial.
Soon I'll know what to say.
*
And what is it that you do not say,
poet starved for texts
Here you are
a Friday in the month of Rajab
listening to the desert
A story taps at your window
an old story
rainbowish
with heads hands hair
and postcards of Casablanca
And what is it that you do not say
poet starved for texts
Break the window
Sput in the face of angels on airplanes
Trample on the big cloud of Arabia
Here you are
a Friday in the month of Rajab
listening to the desert.
__________________________
Ahmed Bouanani
The Shutters
translated from the French by Amma Ramadan
New Directions 2018