NINE INCH NAILS TONIGHT ~

 

    Interscope

    2004

SILAS HOUSE ~

Northern Lights

I longed for you before I knew

you; that's what I always think

when something like this happens.

I never dreamt I would see them,

especially from my own back porch

right here in Kentucky.  But there

they are.  The richest purple, glowing

green, the blush of them,

an undulating mystery

as abstract as the enigma that brings

two people into the same orbit.

Here we are, watching them, together,

and we always will be, even when

we are nothing more than sky.

____________________

Silas House

All These Ghosts

Blair, 2025

THE DEAD C. TONIGHT ~

 

     2006

JOHN MUIR ~

 

R E A D   M E

    Nebraska

    2024

WANG YIN ~

 

Lover

We have reached the open sea, my love,

the shore lights extinguished

seahorse flutes sweet and lilting

We have reached the open sea

I open the urn

scatter you

little pieces of you

falling more slowly than powder

obliquely onto the water

I scatter all of you

You turn the sea faintly red

You calm the waters

just as when you were alive and

midnight snow's fell upon

our open hands

I give you the sky

give you the sea

I give it all to you     all to you

I take the urn that held you

hold it to my breast

I put myself inside the urn that held you

I am now in your dreams

1987-88

_________________________________

Wang Yin

A Summer Day in the

Company of Ghosts

translated by Andrea Lingenfelter

NYRB 2022

BECK'S LOSER TONIGHT ~

 

   1993

NEW! TIM MCNULTY at LONGHOUSE ~

 Tim McNulty

Stopping by Stumps

~

L O N G H O U S E

 2026

poetry of a treeplanter

in the Pacific Northwest

many-colored 

w/ photographs from the field

$12

postpaid

 U.S. orders

We accept Paypal

or check

Please use our email address :

longhousepoetry@gmail.com

Longhouse 

PO Box 2454

West Brattleboro

 Vermont

 05303

TORTOISE TONIGHT ~

 

       International Artisan

       2025

DEAD AND ALIVE, ESSAYS ~

 

R E A D  M E

Penguin Press

2025

TYRONE DAVIS TONIGHT ~

 

PATRICK PHILLIPS ~

Elegy with Table Saw & Cobwebs

Rummaging the wood-rack

I pull a cracked

old shingle off the stack

a scrap

on which at

some point, with his flat

knife-whittled pencil

my old friend Ollie scratched

5/32 + 1/2 —

a kind of riddle now, a workman's

artifact,

unnoticed since that

year the cancer cells attacked –

since whatever it

once meant,

whatever part it

played in some project,

went with him

into the flames

& ash.

Friends

we die like that:

thew hole starry sky goes black

while these little

nothings last —

while these spiders in the rafters

go clutching

their white sacks

whispering & yet & yet

& yet & yet

until I dust the fading rune

& put it back.

______________________

Patrick Phillips

Song of the Closing Doors

Knopf 2022

BOOKER T. & the MG's TONIGHT ~

 

       Stax 1971  

JOY LADIN ~

 

Whisper

I didn't know

I was in prison

till I looked out

the small round windows

and saw you whispering stars

______________________

How long have I been here

up to my neck in sunshine

splashing across my bed

On this street

nothing reminds me

of my children

Here I am

trying to give up

and you keep blossoming

________________

Joy Ladin

Family

Persea Books, 2024

BEGGAR'S BANGUET ~

 

     The Rolling Stones

     1968

THE THIRD REICH OF DREAMS ~

 

Nazi execution WW2 / Alex Pretti executed by US Border Patrol agents in Minneapolis 24 Jan 2026

R E A D   M E

     Quadrangle Books

     1966

TWILIGHT TIME ~

 

       Rounder Records

THE MAP OF MY DEAD PILOTS ~

 

F L Y   M E 

     Lyons Press

     2012

POPS STAPLES TONIGHT ~

 

     posthumous album

     2015

WENDY COPE ~

At 3 a.m.

the room contains no sound

except the ticking of the clock

which has begun to panic

like an insect, trapped

in an enormous box.

Books lie open on the carpet.

Somewhere else

you're sleeping

and beside you there's a woman

who is crying quietly

so you won't wake.

On a Train

The book I've been reading

rests on my knee.  You sleep.

It's beautiful out there —

fields, little lakes and winter trees

in February sunlight,

every car park a shining mosaic.

Long, radiant minutes,

your hand in my hand,

still warm, still warm.

To My Husband

If we were going to die, I might

Not hug you quite as often or as tight,

Or say goodbye to you as carefully

If I were certain you'd come back to me.

Perhaps I wouldn't value every day,

Every act of kindness, every laugh

As much, if I knew you and I could stay

For ever as each other's other half.

We may not have too many years before

One disappears to the eternal yonder

And I can't hug or touch you any more.

Yes, of course that knowledge makes us fonder.

Would I want to change things, if I could,

And make us both immortal? Love, I would.

____________________________________

Wendy Cope

Collected Poems

Faber 2024

BENJAMIN LACKNER TONIGHT ~

 

      ECM

      2025