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Tribrach: for those who love (or would like to love) poetry

“Because in times like these/ to have you listen at all, it's necessary/ to talk about trees." -Adrienne Rich, "What Kind of Times Are These"

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Dailies 2/22/17: looking through frames, a good date, the well & the moon, & a poem written in the middle of the night

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In the Frame – Patricia Hooper

Looking out through a narrow pane
of glass in the larger window
I saw how the scene came closer
like the ones Van Gogh isolated
in his perspective frame.

Read rest of poem

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Look Up – Raymond McDaniel  

 

For a model of a gravity well, picture an actual well.

That the moon is minor, that the moon is lesser:

do not pity the motherfucking moon because it orbits you.

Read rest of poem 

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Recuerdo – Edna St. Vincent Millay

We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came
soon.

Read rest of poem 

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Migration – Ana Božičević

I never want to get any
More new things.
I wanna wear out these shoes white
And walk on the rug till it’s perfectly

Read rest of poem 

 

Can poetry help you live longer?

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Can Poetry Keep You Young? Science Is Still Out, But The Heart Says Yes – Ina Jaffe – NPR – 2/20/17

“Creating some form of art is commonly believed to help older people stay mentally and physically healthy. Scientific research hasn’t quite caught up with that belief.

“…federal agencies are now funding more rigorous research and the results are just starting to come in. The early evidence suggests that the arts have positive cognitive, social, and emotional impacts on older adults.”

honestly getting ready for Spring

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(poetry diary  185 -2/22/17) Cool. Thanks to Wendy Xu, I’m now all set for the upcoming Spring. 🙂 

Inventory for Spring
Wendy Xu
Feeling rich for one moment for using money as a bookmark
Feeling deceitful for making public some opinions while neglecting others
Feeling disordered at the sight of three statues conspiring in a row
Feeling insufficient for having a lukewarm reaction to news

Dailies 2/21/17: secrets, an Open House, a photo of a Nativity, & post-Trump depression

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New Year – Joanna Klink

We woke to the darkness before our eyes,
unable to take the measure of the loss.
Who are they. What are we. What have we
abandoned to arrive with such violence at this hour.

Read rest of poem

 

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After the Open House – Marilyn Nelson

I saw again, at last night’s open house,
that families are like jigsaw puzzles
of the self-portraits children draw at school.
The more pieces you see, the more you understand.

Read rest of poem 

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VIII – from “Twelve Songs” – W.H. Auden

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.

Read rest of poem 

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Nativity  – Mike White

 

I am the one
who took the photo,

the one
who on a frigid moonless night

Read rest of poem 

 

Walt Whitman’s newly discovered mystery novel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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In a Walt Whitman Novel, Lost for 165 Years, Clues to ‘Leaves of Grass’ – Jennifer Schuessler –New York Times – 2/20/17

Whitman’s mystery novel

“offers clues to another mystery: how a workaday journalist and mostly conventional poet transformed himself into the author of the sensuous, philosophical, wildly experimental and altogether unclassifiable free verse of ‘Leaves of Grass.’

“’It’s like seeing the workshop of a great writer,’ said Ed Folsom, the editor of The Walt Whitman Quarterly Review. ‘We’re discovering the process of Whitman’s own discovery.’”

boyfriend made of books

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(poetry diary  184 -2/21/17) I often, esp. when sick or sad, sleep with a book under my pillow for comfort.  So I like this poem by Amy Lawless re: sleeping w/a boyfriend made out of books.) 

Inspire Hope

Amy Lawless

I am in a common despair. So in order for me to have hope, it is crucial to stack fifty pounds of books on the left-hand side of my bed. I cover him tightly with my warmest woolen blankets. This

Read rest of poem 

Dailies 2/20/17: a children’s moon, morels, growing old, this moment

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Morel Patch – Lisa Russ Spaar 

Ghetto miraculous,
tipsy monastery, mysterious

embroidery erupting rashly
in thatch beneath the dying ash,

Read rest of poem 

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On the Moon – Margaret Gibson 

When she said children’s moon, I gasped—
she wouldn’t have heard me or even
seen my face change, not one atom.

Read rest of poem 

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When I Am Old – Moyra Donaldson 

I’ll have dewlaps and a hump and say what all the time
in a cross voice: on every one of my bony crony fingers
a ring. My lips painted with a slash of bright fuchsia,

Read rest of poem 

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This Moment / Right Now – Roberto Carlos Garcia 

                              for Monica Hand

there’s a whispered prayer blowing
the crumbs of a season’s harvest
off a girl’s plate

Read rest of poem

 

a video for President Trump

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‘We see you’: Black poets challenge Trump

17 February 2017 – BBC News – Charity Blackwell, Drew Anderson, 2Deep the Poetess and Slli’m Williams – Video by Charlotte Pamment

Nothing really shines but this: I have loved you/ eight presidents.

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Eight Presidents
Allan Peterson
October five. Seven years older in dog years and then your November
the day record snowfalls hit Randolph New Hampshire in forty-three
and I am thinking of something intimate and impossible to waste:
Brazil’s undiscovered caverns of amethyst     endless smooth oval stones
along Washington’s moody Pacific chewing a continent. But I am wrong.
(poetry diary  183 -2/20/17 – Happy Presidents’ Day! I have loved my husband 3 presidents so far.)

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