JAMES TATE ~

WILLIAM GASS ~

GALWAY KINNELL ~

ROBERT BLY ~

DAVID BUDBILL ~

MEI MEI BERSSENBRUGGE ~

W S MERWIN ~

HOA NGUYEN ~

ANNE WALDMAN ~

FORREST GANDER ~

COLD MOUNTAIN ~

ANDREW SCHELLING ~

MIKE O'CONNOR ~

FINN WILCOX & FRIENDS ~

TIM MCNULTY ~

RED PINE (BILL PORTER) ~

RUSSELL EDSON ~

LUCILLE CLIFTON ~

LEONARD COHEN ~

WENDELL BERRY & GARY SNYDER ~

THOMAS MERTON ~

MARGARET RANDALL ~

JANINE POMMY VEGA & BETTY MACDONALD ~

click on, then use the link to 
you tube ~
don't miss it

JAMES KOLLER IN ROME ~

RICHARD BRAUTIGAN PREDICTS ~

DOING PACINO ~

POETRY ON THE BIRDHOUSE ~

Rejoice! Thanksgiving

pilgrims

wanderers, scallawags, saints

to five days of celebrating

poetry on the Birdhouse

with an offering

hour by hour

to balance the menu

of presidential impeachment

where we must endure

the sending in of the clowns ~

let us then follow up

and send in the poets!

NEW ENGLAND, 1967 ~ (BORGES)

New England, 1967



The forms and colors of my dreams have changed;

now there are red houses side by side

and the fragile bronze of the dying leaves

and the chaste winter and righteous firewood.

As on the seventh day, the earth is good.

Deep in the twilight something carries on

that nearly does not exist, bold and sad,

an old murmur of Bibles and of war.

Soon (they say) the first snow will arrive;

America waits for me on every street,

but I feel in the falling light of afternoon

today so long and yesterday so brief.

Buenos Aires, it is along your streets

I go on walking, not knowing who or when.



____________________

Jorge Luis Borges
The Sonnets
translated by Stephen Kessler
Penguin Books

MUSIC PIONEERS ~

P I O N E E R S

Vanderbilt

2018

YOKEL ( 7 ) ~

Moses

No. None. Never have

Black people lived on

This back road Vermont

Where I live. But we have

A new neighbor, a white gal

Long ago graduate from Vassar

Who went to live in Africa and

She has now come home to settle

With her two children.

One is a girl, tiny, with

Lovely bead-braided hair.

She walks the dirt road to fetch

The mail with her older brother

With quick tiny steps. I haven’t

Had a chance to meet her but I

Did come upon her brother coming

The other way, short and stocky

Young teenager and said hello and

Stuck out my hand and introduced

Myself and he did too. Said his

Name was Moses. Had the steady

Eyes and an instantaneous

Reverence to go

Along with it.

Thaw

We went out together

To the river as it floods

And the misting and mud

With lantern light you

Held we listened and

Watched at all that

Winter going away

Chores

Rebuilding an old farm

House roof with steel

Pa wonders how he’ll

Cut around that chimney

Ma says, now is as good

A time as any

To sweep it clean

                            for Janine Pommy Vega

Farm Voice

she didn’t know

we could hear her

bellow like the boys

for her lost family

dog while pushing

the baby in the stroller

so we’ll never see

her the same again

_______________

Bob Arnold

Yokel

Longhouse

2011

ALAIN-FOURNIER ~

Round Dance



                                         'We won't go back to the wood
                                                  They've cut down all the laurels'





The evening's soft, the round is wild,

Give me your hands, you playful child,

Come and dance beneath the limes.



Your skirts fly off to distant climes,

The evening's blue, my spirit wild,

So turn again beneath the limes! . . .



*



Let's turn until the chill sets in,

Dancing here with 'the lovely one'.



*



The poppet joins the turning round

The square is brown, the dance is blond,

The doorsteps listen to the sound.



My spirit is that little blond;

Of wanderlust we're not so fond,

Let's stay and dance this local round.



*



Dance until the chill sets in,

Turning here with 'the lovely one'.



*



One more, before we're told to stop.

Yes, before we're all grown up,

Let's dance and then we'll go to sleep.



A last dance under the chestnut trees,

A last dance, turning as we please

Till dying brings us to our knees . . .



*



Till dying brings us to our knees.



____________________________

Alain-Fournier
Poems
Translated from the French
Carcanet Press, U.K.

GAHAN WILSON ~

G A H A N      W I L S O N

1930 ~ 2019

KEY TO THE HIGHWAY ~

R   E   A   D        T   H   I   S

T H E N      T H I S




A N D :

THE LAST POETS ~

BOB ARNOLD ~

THICH TRI QUANG , MONK ~

Mr. Tri Quang, center, in 1967 outside the National Palace in Saigon, where he and other Buddhist monks were staging a sit-in to protest government policies. Credit...Bettmann/Getty Images

THICH  TRI  QUANG

1923 ~ 2019

GUY BIRCHARD ~