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Book of Hours I,14. by Rainer Maria Rilke 18 Jul 2013 | 01:54 am
I, 14 You see, I want a lot. Maybe I want it all: the darkness of each endless fall, the shimmering light of each assent. So many are alive who don’t seem to care. Casual, easy, they move in the worl...
Welcome Morning, by Anne Sexton 26 Jun 2013 | 11:37 pm
Hello Poets, One of the last poems from the troubled soul of Anne Sexton, a clear-eyed rendering of her about-to-end-world and a note on joy, her infrequent but true companion. Best, Sam Welcome Morn...
The Gift, by William Stafford 3 Jun 2013 | 11:21 pm
The Gift Time wants to show you a different country. It's the one that your life conceals, the one waiting outside when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at in her crochet design, the on...
Retard Spoilage, by August Kleinzahler 21 May 2013 | 08:29 am
Hello Poets, Possibly the best poem about what's in the back of your refrigerator. Kleinzahler's love sonnet to what we fear, fail to understand and try to kill -- the little things that run the world...
Planting A Sequoia, by Dana Gioia 7 May 2013 | 03:30 am
Planting A Sequoia All afternoon my brothers and I have worked in the orchard, Digging this hole, laying you into it, carefully packing the soil. Rain blackened the horizon, but cold winds kept it ...
The Supple Deer, by Jane Hirschfield 1 May 2013 | 12:47 am
The Supple Deer The quiet opening between fence strands perhaps eighteen inches. Antlers to hind hooves, four feet off the ground, the deer poured through. No tuft of the coarse white belly hair le...
With Quevedo, In Springtime; by Pablo Neruda 23 Apr 2013 | 03:19 am
Hello Poets, Pablo Neruda called the Spanish Golden Age poet Francisco Quevedo (1580-1645) the greatest of them all, saying that reading his poems were a “lived experience” transcending words on a pag...
Saguaro, by Brenda Hillman 16 Apr 2013 | 02:39 am
Saguaro Often visitors there, saddened by the lack of trees, go out to the promontory. Then, backed by the banded sunset, the trail of the Conquistadores, the father puts on the camera the leather ...
The Treasure, by Robinson Jeffers 9 Apr 2013 | 10:08 am
The Treasure Mountains, a moment's earth-waves rising and hollowing; the earth too's an ephermerid; the stars— Short-lived as grass the stars quicken in the nebula and dry in their summer, they spira...
Notice, by Steve Kowit 2 Apr 2013 | 12:24 am
Notice This evening, the sturdy Levis I wore every day for over a year & which seemed to the end in perfect condition, suddenly tore. How or why I don’t know, but there it was—a big rip at the crotch...
