Poem about Pittsburgh Houses – David Blair
My parents’ house took a beating
the winter my mother was going—
blizzards, ice busting gutters,
the wallpaper stained with run-off.
She’s gone. She was my love, my moon or more.
She chased the chickens out and swept the floor,
Emptied the bones and nut-shells after feasts,
And smacked the kids for leaping up like beasts.
Town Watches Them Take Alfonso – Ilya Kaminsky
Now each of us is
a witness stand:
Vasenka watches us watch four soldiers throw Alfonso Barabinski on the sidewalk.
We let them take him, all of us cowards.
—Claudia Emerson, 1957–2014
I believe in an absolute rhythm, a rhythm . . . in poetry that corresponds
exactly with the emotion or shade of emotion to be expressed.
Siri, show us a picture of an iamb.
& the pixels gathered on the phone screen,
Half-moon married to slash, scythe
Beside spear-shaft. Crescent or chalice,