Excerpt from Work – Mary Oliver 4. All day I have been pining for the past. That’s when the big dog, Luke, breathed at my side. Then she dashed away then she returned in and out of the swales, in and out of the creeks, her dark eyes snapping. Then she broke, slowly, in the … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Mary Oliver
Remembering Brother Bob – William Stafford Tell me, you years I had for my life, tell me a day, that day it snowed and I played hockey in the cold. Bob was seven, then, and I was twelve, and strong. The sun went down. I turned and Bob was crying on the shore. Do I … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by William Stafford
STATION – Sharon Olds Coming in off the dock after writing, I approached the house, and saw your long grandee face in the light of a lamp with a parchment shade the color of flame. An elegant hand on your beard. Your tapered eyes found me on the lawn. You looked as the lord looks … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Sharon Olds
Unloose – Heather Sellers Fifth grade, summer of the green one-piece. I was waiting out in front of the ymca, downtown Orlando, and there was a man on a motorcycle under the portico where Mom picked me up. I was in the green suit like skin, barefoot on the hot concrete. Dancing. For the first … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Heather Sellers
In a U-Haul North of Damascus – David Bottoms 1 Lord, what are the sins I have tried to leave behind me? The bad checks, the workless days, the scotch bottles thrown across the fence and into the woods, the cruelty of silence, the cruelty of lies, the jealousy, the indifference? What are these on … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by David Bottoms
Objects, Memory and Meaning
If it can't be said in a hundred words, then it can't be said in a thousand.
sewing a handmade wardrobe
"you are not alone," the poem said, in the dark tunnel. ~Louise Glück
Your Source For The Good Things Black People Do, Give and Receive All Over The World
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Thoughts on the world around me
the literary asylum
Bipolar is my superpower
