Search: “poems to go”

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‘I can see clearly now’

I had to get out of town. Get lost, evade the race of human beings. Seek out geese and turtles, beavers and blue herons. Gunned the car 50 miles per hour, 70, 80. Slowed to make the left turn. Parked on white gravel near the trail head. The way forward was barred by a long rusted gate, hinged and anchored…

‘10,000 Thunderstorms’

If I'm to be an insomniac, a fine thunderstorm is a welcome thing. To entertain. To relish and divert from mournful or misbegotten thought. I ponder 
getting up. Going to my front porch, storm-sitting perch.

‘The Flavor of Grief’

I have been getting familiar lately with the flavor of grief. It comes on me with no warning. While driving up-river, to shelter-in-Nature. At 68 mph, passing a too-slow, white Chevy truck.

‘My Paragraph & I’

'I want my paragraph to strut, carved cane in hand, the Left Bank, like a proper boulevardier. I want my paragraph to wow you. leave you wanting more. To, if possible, make you gasp. To make you—prose willing—cry. And then, to laugh. And then to laugh at your crying ...'

‘Overhead’

‘The clouds don’t care,’/ he said. Blowing a puff
/ of cigar smoke at me/ from across the porch.
/ I sent a pretty good
/ smoke ring back his way./ We were not
/ six feet apart, so could/ be killing each other, should
/ the virus hitch a ride upon 
our exhalations ...

One Rant, One Song, One Memoir for Mother’s Day

She had the greenest of thumbs, a bright intellect and dreamed of being the kind of writer that Toni Morrison, a hometown contemporary, became. What to do when your mother — in the late stages of Alzheimer's — is moving mutely toward her departure from this life?

The Poet On My Shoulder

I have decided I don’t need a shelf of poets in my life, right now. One, two or three—will do. But who? One’s for certain. I travel with him these days, tucked into a pocket of my rucksack.

Other People’s Poetry Break: W.H. Auden

When all the things you read sound like noise, propaganda or sales pitch come-ons (sometimes, all three at once), then it's time turn to Other People's Poetry, for a break. In this first of a series, Auden's homage to fog.

Rounding up a father’s life in bits and pieces

Fathers can be mysterious guys, especially if they were members of the Greatest Generation who didn't talk about things like their ships being torpedoed in the Atlantic and whose go-to form of anger was volcanic utterance. But in the bits and pieces of a father's life, I find the man he was.