Saturday, April 23, 2022
Friday, April 22, 2022
Thursday, April 21, 2022
MURIEL RUKEYSER ~
Poem
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to see products to the unseen.
I could call my friends on their devices;
They would be more or less made for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other.
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
_______________
Muriel Rukeyser
The Essential Muriel Rukeyser
Ecco 2021
Wednesday, April 20, 2022
BRIAN DOYLE ~
Joey
A while ago I got sick.
It was a thorough and major sick.
Lost use of the old hands and feet,
Which was, as you can imagine, weird.
My kids called the sickness The Thing.
The Thing went on for months and months.
I could tell you lots of stories about The Thing,
But there's only one story that I want to tell you:
Every morning my son got up early to help me
Put my socks on. I would sit on the back stairs
In the dark and he would wrestle my socks on
And neither of us would say any words and I
Still can't think of anything cooler than that.
I have racked my brains and considered
All the possibilities of love and I still
Return to that boy and those socks.
No matter what happens to me,
That happened to me.
______________
Brian Doyle
One Long River of Song
Little, Brown, 2019
photo: Brian Doyle & his family, 2017
Tuesday, April 19, 2022
Monday, April 18, 2022
Sunday, April 17, 2022
Saturday, April 16, 2022
Friday, April 15, 2022
Thursday, April 14, 2022
CLIVE FAUST ~
"Light flickers on and off ruffled layers of leaves."
_________________
TODAY
WE REMEMBER
THE PASSING OF OUR FRIEND
CLIVE FAUST
PLEASE READ MORE ABOUT THIS FINE
Wednesday, April 13, 2022
ALICE PAALEN RAHON ~
Varda Poem
for Yanko
You who taught numbers to know the rainbow
Who opened every door in the celestial city
Who always made more when there was less
Who enchanted birds
Who loved all things except the mean
Should you be seen
Dancing in your golden ashes
About half a league off our port beam
As we go out the Gate
While the sun sets clear
Will you tell us one more time
How hard it is to be human
When it's so easy to be divine
_______________________
Shapeshifter
Alice Paalen Rahon
New York Review of Books
Translated by Mary Ann Caws
2021
Tuesday, April 12, 2022
IN A CLAY PIG'S EYE ~
screeching like baby birds
in a crowded nest ~
dumplings frying
on the fourth day
I named the fly
howard
my senile father
eats the fortune cookie
and the fortune
our beautiful old love
on such thin ice
we can't even shiver
a splinter
pulled from my thumb
spit into the fire
because of my old father
my old mother has learned
to make baby food
after the storm
an apology
of soft rain
going out the door
i pass a grape that had
rolled away from breakfast
a fence between
the cemetery and the road
leans toward the road
mountains disappear in fog
and i want to go right along
with them
_____________________________
selected from ~
Ronald Baatz
In A Clay Pig's Eye
Seastone Editions, 2005