To be a bad poet
who is not invited to exotic poetry festivals in cultural capitals, not celebrated for his otherness, not for the soothing justice that emanates from his professionally __translated words, not for the clapping of the audience when he reads and they see the scaffolding of a pristine soul To be that poet who loves the colors ...
Poem , in which we are not immortal but our identities dissolve in- to one another and we are only a little bit afraid to call it love
Reading: The Shirt by Robert Pinsky
Robert Pinsky (b. 1940) is one of America's greatest poetry critics. He was elected Poet Laurate of the US in 1997. Today I read a social poem about sweatshops, written long before the incident in Bangladesh on 24 April 2013. The Shirt The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible stitches along ...
When we’re old and done
When we're old and done How will our love feel? Will we be Anxious, afraid we missed out on What we could have done? Afraid of Looking back and feeling like dry sand? Life seems funny and meaningful when the people Around us are younger and we, unwittingly We become authorities on living They say ...
Reading: Theory of Prosody by Philip Levine
Philip Levine (1928-2015) was an American poet. As a boy, he worked in the factories of Detroit and was fascinated by the events of the Spanish civil war. He was among the most important poetic voices of the industrial poor of the twentieth century. I read a seemingly playful piece of his that is not ...
identity
strap me down on a vivisection table study my humors, my bile, my spleen I'm keen to know who I am and if I'm able but don't forget to stitch me up again.
Cheer up well done
So I have come to an inversion: your recognition will feel like an insult, (This is a defense mechanism) I have accomplished officially accomplished close to nothing, and I am still closing in to nothingness. This morning (but the diction is universal) I realized that all future things will be mere projections of the past, ...
Reading: The Work Of Happiness by May Sarton
May Sarton (1912-1995) was a very prolific writer of novels, journals and poetry. She kept reinventing herself and wrote until she was very old. According to literary critics, she is an important contemporary American author. This time, I found a poem she wrote about happiness: The work of happiness I thought of happiness, how it ...
Bird
Oh beguiling creature, I will observe you quietly without the desire to know your scientific name, or how many there are of you. I will follow you in your flight, I will look at the color of your feathers, or at the mournful bend of your beak, and call you that. I will listen to ...
Call me if you are a publisher and I will see if I can mention you in my next poem