YEVGENIA BELORUSETS ~

 

R E A D  &  L I S T E N

Yevgenia Belorusets is a Ukrainian writer, journalist, artist, and photographer who lives between Kyiv and Berlin. Her photographic work calls attention to the more vulnerable sections of Ukrainian society – queer families, out-of-work coal miners, the Roma, people living in the war zone in the East – and was shown in the Ukrainian pavilion at the 56th Venice Biennale. She is a member of the Hudrada curatorial collective and cofounder of Prostory, a journal for literature, art, and politics. She was awarded the 2020 HKW International Literature Award in Germany for Lucky Breaks, her first work of fiction.

SONIA SANCHEZ ~

 

14 haiku

    for Emmett Louis Till

Your limbs buried

in northern  muscle carry 

their own heartbeat

Mississippi

alert with

conjugated pain

young Chicago

stutterer whistling

more than flesh

your pores

wild stars embracing

southern eyes

footprints blooming

in the night remember

your blood

in this southern

classroom  summer settles

into winter

i  hear your

pulse  swallowing

neglected light

your limbs

fly off the ground

little birds . ... .

we  taste the

blood ritual of

southern hands

blue midnite

breathe sailing on

smiling tongues

say no words

time is collapsing

in the woods

a mother's  eyes

remembering a cradle

pray out loud

walking in Mississippi

i hold the stars

between my teeth

your death

a blues, i could not

drink away.

______________________

Sonia Sanchez ~

Collected Poems

Beacon Press, 2021

CLYDE MCPHATTER ~

 

JOHN KEENE ~

 

Blackness

           after Miguel James

When I begin a poem I often  do so

because I love black people.

When I choose not to write

a  poem I still love black people.

If I write I love black people

it's because  I love black people.

If  I don't write  I love black people

I still love black people. Every metaphor,

every simile is rooted in the fact

I love black people. Even if I forgo

figurative language altogether  I still

love black people. Whenever I start

an essay or a short story or novel

I can feel all the way to the very bottom

of my soul that I love black people.

Those times when I stare

at the blank white screen or page

I may despair that I cannot show

or testify how much I love black

people and want other black people

and all people to love black people

and to say and urge others to say

publicly that they love black

people which is to say I have learned

to love myself and to love black people

and to recognize that despite all that

we face in the world from the moment

of our birth to the day we die

that even the black period that will end

this poem is a sign and seal

to me and anyone who cares

that I love black people.

________________________

John Keene

Punks

New  & Selected Poems

Song Cave, 2021

JAMES RAY ~

 

SIPPIE WALLACE ~

 

OUMOU SANGARE ~

 

EZRA POUND ~

 

Ione, Dead the Long Year

Empty are the ways,

Empty are the ways of this land

And the flowers

             Bend over with heavy heads.

They bend in vain.

Empty are the ways of this land

             Where Ione

Walked once, and now does not walk

But seems like a person just gone.

E Z R A       P O U N D

______________________

JANINE POMMY VEGA POEM ~

 

Happy Birthday, Jim

THE ORLONS ~

 

A girl group with a guy!

Steve Caldwell

LAST LETTER TO A READER ~

R E A D       M E 

REBECCA SOLNIT CELEBRATES TREES & HELENE JOHNSON ~

brainpicker · The Universe in Verse: Rebecca Solnit Reads "Trees at Night" (1925) by Helene Johnson

CLEAR AS A BELL ~

 

Roxane Gay

U V A L D E    T E X A S   S H O O T I N G

ATHLETE ~

 

     Steve Kerr

    HOW - TO

WITTGENSTEIN, PRIVATE NOTEBOOKS (1914-1916) ~

 

R E A D      M E

HERE IT IS ~

 

"Putin Showed His Hand.

The West Kept Shaking It."

G O    T O    I T

Master Guitarist of The Sahara: Ali Farka Touré ~

 

THAT TIME OF YEAR ~

 

photograph by bob arnold

spring 2022

THE POSSIBLE PLEASURES ~

 

THE POSSIBLE PLEASURES by Lynn Valente

$14.99

 

I save very good poems to read late at night — it’s late at night.”

–Bob Arnold, author of Once In Vermont, Gnomon Press

Woodcutter's Autumn

Geese above

barking like dogs

open the gate

to our dark fence

and let in some thoughts

we put away for good —

of summer, that tourist

who took off fast

in his big car

and never paid taxes.

We'll be paying now —

Who let in these thoughts?

From carrying them home

my arms will ache

all winter.

________________________

Lynn Valente

The Possible Pleasures

Finishing Line Press, 2021

ROBERT SUND ~

 

Shakti

She lies down on her side and fills the valley.

In the lowlands her legs are a river;

alder trees and wild winter bushes

shimmer in the windy rain.

In the mountain her breasts are blue

and snow clouds sweep across them.

In the bend of her knee

are a thousand farms.

When she dances

rain clouds are broken apart

by the sun flying across her shoulder.

When she sleeps and dreams

a thousand geese sing her praises.

_____________________

Robert Sund

First Glimpse of Swallows

Brooding Heron Press, 2022