Note: I found the above gif on via a “poetry” search on Giphy. Apparently it’s from a 1930’s mugshot of a 1930’s criminal.
“Writing poetry is talking to oneself; yet it is a mode of talking to oneself in which the self disappears; and the product’s something that, though it may not be for everybody, is about everybody.” – Richard Wilbur
Esteban Rodríguez – Roadside
Mexico rises into view like a textbook description of a dead civilization;
its silhouette piercing the scaled soil, the streaks of afternoon mirages,
the caliche billowing across the windshield as my mother pulls into a roadside
stand. Still a few miles away, and I already see how poverty mimics
Javier Zamora – El Salvador
Salvador, if I return on a summer day, so humid my thumb
*****will clean your beard of salt, and if I touch your volcanic face,
francine j. harris – Single Lines Looking Forward. or One Monostich Past 45
The joke is orange. which has never been funny. For awhile I didn’t sleep on my bright side. - Read rest of poem
Derek Mahon – Everything is Going to be All Right
How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.