“Poetry…is an art of paradox,
of clarity married to mystery, of thinking married to feeling..”

Terrance Hayes – Poet & Visual Artist

Dang good reasons to pause in the middle of your busy life to read poetry:

Poetry can penetrate right to the center of what truly matters.  What subversive act, in a culture hell-bent on filling space with activity and silence with noise, to simply slow down and read a poem! Turning to poetry, as Adrienne Rich said, “…can break open locked chambers of possibility, restore numbed zones to feeling, recharge desire.”   Poetry has even saved lives.  It’s true.  Dang good reasons, yes?  Nuff said.  Onward!

Image: Paul Cezanne, Still life, pitcher and fruit

February 2018 ~ Topography

Here you go: an erotic love poem that builds beautifully to the last line.
Kaboomi!  She nails it.  What a stellar ending!

After we flew across the country we
got in bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas your Kansas
burning against my Kansas, your Eastern
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central Time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly from the left my
moon rising slowly from the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our states united, one
nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Sharon Olds from The Gold Cell
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

* Try reading this aloud, and, having it read to you.  Such pleasure!

By |February 1st, 2018|Tags: , , , |

January 2018 ~ Inside this new love, die

Let’s give ourselves to the joy-dance, friends!
Let’s waste no time dying to this new Love!  

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You’re covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
And be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.
Your old life was a frantic running from silence.

The speechless full moon
Comes out now.

Rumi, translation by Coleman Barks
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

By |January 1st, 2018|Tags: , , , |

Poem of the Month – December 2017

The tender depth of feeling this poet portrays is palpable.  His words touched me deeply.
And is this not what we’re really here for?  To touch and be touched?

A Winter Dialogue

We decide to take a break from the eating, drinking,
and arguing — our traditional holiday pastimes —
to walk around the ice-encased neighborhood.
In the hallway, we sort through the piles of coats,
hats, and gloves, pulling out what we think we need,
and when I get to the door my father calls me back
to drape a scarf around my neck. In my forties,
I don’t like scarves anymore than when I was six,
but, now, having kids, I recognize what his fingers
are trying to say as they adjust the wool, and, I hope,
he recognizes what I’m trying to say by not moving.
It’s not much, but since neither of us needs anything
the other can buy, we try to exchange what we can,
a protective touch and a willingness to be touched.

Joseph Robert Mills from Sending Christmas Cards to Huck and Hamlet
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

By |December 1st, 2017|Tags: , , |

Lucky’s Corner


Here’s a tasty morsel of poetic medicine from Lucky.
Down the hatch!

“Intent on one great love, perfect,
Requited and for ever,
I missed love’s everywhere
Small presence,

Poet, Kathleen Jessie Raine

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