You've got your life instagrammed. You stream a persona that never repeats. You snap up who you are in a dozen photos a day. You scroll through the deadened sea, of the others, and heart who you think they are. Your imagination is infused with the smell of Madagascar vanilla. You know your world. You ...
“a good poem corrals the mind of the reader, but leaves the gate open” - found on the Internet
On the mountain
We climbed the same mountain today A few white hairs we blew in the wind We surrendered to what never attacked us We entrusted our future to a rock I roll small pebbles down a precipice to test the symbolic capacity of this mountain. You smile and I talk the next two mountains in you ...
What power is only poetry can say.
Lured by a row of pastel macarons I enter the store like a stray verse, looking for comfort in its soothing hues The soft face behind the counter smiles when I smile, before I order a coffee to go with my pink and orange macarons
A downtown apartment with security and a water cooler. The furniture landscape emerging from a Persian rug. Slow drip coffee. Long bookshelves with "art". A low noise dehumidifier. A mahogany banister. Gentility. Heirlooms. Silence.
My violin teacher
After twenty years I found my violin teacher on Facebook. She remembered me, that was one of the joys of teaching, she wrote. In the mean time, entire lives have started: our children born, nine eleven, financial crisis. History has happened. I want to ask her about my vibrato.
Oh great people, great healthy people
Oh great people, great healthy people with bosoms abulge and necks like reeds I want to like the fire of empathy that burns on your cheeks I want to write in the wake of your perfect gait I want to abide your teeth, carnivorous and straight I want to bury my envy at your feet, ...
A belief is all we have
A belief is all we have to hold on to, some warmth weaning us for darker times when we thicket each other's softest spots, make our fingers lost and blow weightless snow in each other's faces when we make chocolate gestures, blanket soft talk in some rearrangement of tired starlight
I ride a subway train
I ride a subway train, home-bound There are empty seats; I feel a cool breeze. Two rhinoceroses walk by I think: my wife and I.
Circle of Life
You too will get the e-mail from the hospital You don't know when, or which hospital, or if the doctor has been born yet, but it will come. The good news is that you can already respond to that e-mail, by giving birth to some humor.
coffee beans and machine guns change we can believe in. blackness is an ideal churches full of popcorn mumbling generals in tank tops nightliners piercing darkness a dead dog's candy eye, the tightrope of history cigarette butts drowned in cold coffee orphans and Eurydice in ironed T-shirts earthworms tunneling underfoot abandoned swimming pools, and an ...
"Said Hamlet to Ophelia, I'll draw a sketch of thee, What kind of pencil shall I use? 2B or not 2B?" - Spike Milligan
Reading: Lucky by Tony Hoagland
Tony Hoagland (b. 1953) is a witty and acerbic poet from North Carolina. Many awards. Some great and demonically intense poems. Here goes: Lucky If you are lucky in this life, you will get to help your enemy the way I got to help my mother when she was weakened past the point of saying ...
Just now, I was intimidated
Just now, I was intimidated by an indestructible paper cup towering in front of me, a long shadow bulging from its rim. The straw hole in its stained lid vows to annihilate me, its cardboard jacket sinks frivolously in the surface of the table. Sovereignly, he does not move. I ask what do you want? ...
I love my best of you shine me through the vestiges of your spring make me, who has the wind still in his wrinkles, sing of how we love the silk softness of our whiten hair, chance with me the rite of our fingers through it, entomb us in that raging, mad, that sacred dance
Reading: Ode To The Walking Woman by Tishani Doshi
Tishani Doshi (b. 1975) is an Indian writer, dancer and journalist. I read a lyrical song inspired by a statuie by Alberto