Poets urge us to join the circle of simple, passionate thusness
Only When I am Quiet and Do Not Speak Only when I am quiet for a long timeand do not speakdo the objects of my life draw near.Shy, the scissors and spoons, the blue mug.Hesitant even the towels,for all their intimate knowledge and scent offresh bleach.How steady their regard as …
37days Retreat SOLD OUT for Sept 2008; Next one set for April 24-26, 2009
Wow. We have been overwhelmed by the response for the upcoming 37days retreat (Sept 26-28, 2008) and the retreat is SOLD OUT. We will welcome participants from ten U.S. states and Canada at the beautiful Bend of Ivy Lodge in the fall for that gathering. If you are interested to …
Poets take us into the grass that has overgrown causes and effects, to that place where we unearth rusted-out arguments
The End and the Beginning After every warsomeone has to clean up.Things won’tstraighten themselves up, after all. Someone has to push the rubbleto the side of the road,so the corpse-filled wagonscan pass. Someone has to get miredin scum and ashes,sofa springs,splintered glass,and bloody rags. Someone has to drag in a …
Poets ask us questions we need to answer
Questions Before Dark Day ends, and before sleepwhen the sky dies down, consideryour altered state: has this daychanged you? Are the cornerssharper or rounded off? Did youlive with death? Make decisionsthat quieted? Find one clear wordthat fit? At the sun’s midpointdid you notice a pitch of absence,bewilderment that invitesthe possible? …
Poets sound out over miles
Elephant Love Fourteen thousand pounds Shift silently Over ruts worn deep By the lure of water. A behemoth link In the tail to trunk chain, Slinking under night’s cover Toward the wide, gentle sea. Each massive foot, Distinct as a thumbprint, Hints at treetops and weather, Speaks of dry and …
Poets announce their large, unadulterated cowness
Our National Poetry Month Poemapalooza is drawing to a close. By my estimation, we’ve got a week left, or perhaps less. I can never remember which months have 31 days. Is it the months on the knuckles, or the ones in-between the knuckles? Let’s throw caution to the wind and …
Poets sit down and open a vein
There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. -Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith Every writer has experienced moments in which all they can find is excuses. Not words or poetic turns of phrase or metaphor, but only excuses. Except for writers like …
Poets explore infinite inwardness
A Table in the Wilderness I draw a windowand a man sitting inside it. I draw a bird in flight above the lintel. That’s my picture of thinking. If I put a woman there insteadof the man, it’s a picture of speaking. If I draw a second birdin …
Poets take us to last places
Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. -Plato The smallest of gestures, the symbolic connection to last places, the pilgrimages to sites of pain and loss. It is an urge, a yearning, a need I believe we all know. This one broke my heart. This one made me quiet. …
Poets take us out on the bridge
With thanks to the poet, another poem you’ll find in Life is a Verb: Undressing the Muse When Sonny Rollins walked onto that bridgeto play his saxophone to the windhe was stepping off the stageand into the woodshed.It wasn’t a failure of nerve, of course,nor was it only a deepeningof …
