2015 // March

March 2015

Anyway, by Richard Siken (3/1/2015) He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand. He was dead anyway, a ghost. I’m surprised I saw his hand at all. The moon, of course, is always there—day moon, but it’s still there; behind the clouds but it’s still there. I like seeing things: a hand, the moon, ice […]

The Purpose of Ritual, by Melissa Broder (3/2/2015) When you fled I disappeared into the abscesses of my brain. We are both impulsive humans and perhaps my disappearance was premature. To reappear I had to grow younger. I began consuming images of boys at a very rapid speed, never their bodies just reflections. I distorted all the mirrors in mucus, oil and blood. […]

The World Is Too Much With Us, by William Wordsworth (3/3/2015) The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are […]

Non-lieux, by Erika Meitner (3/4/2015) Hand-painted on the side of a shack we pass on the road to Ohio: what this world comin to? This is not haiku. This is more like fog and we’re socked in and your body is invisible and right across from me simultaneously. How much ammo you got? says one guy to another in the […]

Headaches, by Marilyn Hacker (3/5/2015) Wine again. The downside of any evening’s bright exchanges, scribbled with retribution : stark awake, a tic throbs in the left temple’s site of bombardment. Tortured syntax, thorned thoughts, vocabulary like a forest littered with unexploded cluster bombs, no exit except explosion ripping the branches. Stacks of shadowed books on the bedside table wall a […]

Could Have Danced All Night, by Dean Young (3/6/2015) The wolf appointed to tear me apart is sure making slow work of it. This morning just one eye weeping, a single chip out of my back and the usual maniacal wooden bird flutes in the brain. Listen to that feeble howl like having fangs is something to regret, like we shouldn’t give thanks for […]

The Subject of Retreat, by Yona Harvey (3/7/2015) Your black coat is a door in the storm. The snow we don’t mention clings to your boots & powders & puffs. & poof. Goes. Dust of the fallen. Right here at home. The ache of someone gone-missing. Walk it off like a misspoken word. Mound of snow. Closed door. I could open it. Or […]

1941 Piece, by Emilio Villa (3/8/2015) It could be that on any given day air would travel half-heartedly through the air, maybe, but if Lake Garda fails to recover in time all the dust eaten by cyclists in meaningless races, and kilometers that don’t count, good for nothing, maybe, as long as the ozone and the horizontal rain speak to traffic […]

If We Must Die, by Claude McKay (3/9/2015) If we must die—let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursed lot. If we must die—oh, let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters […]

Iris, by David St. John (3/10/2015) Vivian St. John (1881-1974) There is a train inside this iris: You think I’m crazy, & like to say boyish & outrageous things. No, there is A train inside this iris. It’s a child’s finger bearded in black banners. A single window like a child’s nail, A darkened porthole lit by the white, angular face […]

Slide, by Kate Colby (3/11/2015) You and I inhabit thresholds, clinging to neither here nor there, and to and: this is a threshold of no relief, of interrogative light and obviated shadows, of questions flattened between clapboard slides, in laboratories of hanging frames—in a potential frame, the next moment slumps beneath the shadow of the overhang. They call it earthquake […]

Survivor Guilt, by Ron Padgett (3/12/2015) It’s very easy to get. Just keep living and you’ll find yourself getting more and more of it. You can keep it or pass it on, but it’s a good idea to keep a small portion for those nights when you’re feeling so good you forget you’re human. Then drudge it up and float down […]

Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Return to Vienna, by Rita Dove (3/13/2015) Oh you men who think or say that I am malevolent, stubborn, or misanthropic, how greatly do you wrong me…. —The Heiligenstadt Testament Three miles from my adopted city lies a village where I came to peace. The world there was a calm place, even the great Danube no more than a pale ribbon tossed […]

Iva’s Pantoum, by Marilyn Hacker (3/14/2015) We pace each other for a long time. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the baby on the mountain. I am in a cold stream where I led you. I packed my anger with the beef jerky. You are the woman sticking her tongue out in a cold stream where I […]

anyone lived in a pretty how town, by E. E. Cummings (3/15/2015) anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did. Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but only a few […]

For the Confederate Dead, by Kevin Young (3/16/2015) I go with the team also. —Whitman These are the last days my television says. Tornadoes, more rain, overcast, a chance of sun but I do not trust weathermen, never have. In my fridge only the milk makes sense— expires. No one, much less my parents, can tell me why my middle name is Lowell, […]

Four Poems for Robin, by Gary Snyder (3/17/2015) Four Poems for Robin, by Gary Snyder Siwashing It Out Once in Suislaw Forest by Gary Snyder I slept under rhododendron All night blossoms fell Shivering on a sheet of cardboard Feet stuck in my pack Hands deep in my pockets Barely able to sleep. I remembered when we were in school Sleeping together in […]

Kaddish, Part I, by Allen Ginsberg (3/18/2015) For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894-1956 Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the […]

Nocturne, by Wayne Miller (3/19/2015) Tonight all the leaves are paper spoons in a broth of wind. Last week they made a darker sky below the sky. The houses have swallowed their colors, and each car moves in the blind sack of its sound like the slipping of water. Flowing means falling very slowly— the river passing under the tracks, […]

Do What Now, by Mike Young (3/20/2015) for ET We are things embarrassing, strange, and hang around feeling everything things, things, considering beautiful that which does not consider anything. Are we? Strange and hang embarrassing, things around, beautiful feelings. Consider everything. That which considers we are. Feeling feeling, not beautiful. Hanging things. Everything we are, strange, which does not feel. Strange, that […]

Sailing to Byzantium, by W. B. Yeats (3/21/2015) That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. An aged man […]

World’s Bliss, by Alice Notley (3/22/2015) The men & women sang & played they sleep by singing, what shall I say of the most poignant on earth the most glamorous loneliest sought after people those poets wholly beautiful desolate aureate, death is a powerful instinctive emotion— but who would be released from a silver skeleton? gems & drinking cups—This skull is […]

[white spring], by Lisa Olstein (3/23/2015) I am working on a specimen so pale it is like staring at snow from the bow of a ship in fog. I lose track of things—articulation of wing, fineness of hair—as if the moth itself disappears, but remains as an emptiness before me. Or, from its bleakness, the subtlest distinctions suddenly increase: the slightest […]

A Few Lines from Rehoboth Beach, by Fleda Brown (3/24/2015) Dear friend, you were right: the smell of fish and foam and algae makes one green smell together. It clears my head. It empties me enough to fit down in my own skin for a while, singleminded as a surfer. The first day here, there was nobody, from one distance to the other. Rain rose […]

Woods in Winter, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (3/25/2015) When winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O’er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes. Where, twisted round the barren oak, The […]

I Would Like to Describe, by Zbigniew Herbert (3/26/2015) I would like to describe the simplest emotion joy or sadness but not as others do reaching for shafts of rain or sun I would like to describe a light which is being born in me but I know it does not resemble any star for it is not so bright not so pure and […]

|admin| New Available PDF: Elegies (3/26/2015) admin’s note: I’ve been making a lot of changes on here recently, so my apologies for any random inconsistencies in content, format, themes, pages, etc. Let me know if your inbox is being spammed with notifications; I wasn’t sure if it was just happening to mine or everybody’s. I’m very sorry if that’s the case. […]

Around Us, by Marvin Bell (3/27/2015) We need some pines to assuage the darkness when it blankets the mind, we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly as a plane’s wing, and a worn bed of needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind, and a blur or two of a wild thing that sees and is not seen. […]

City Lights 1961, by Diane di Prima (3/28/2015) Going there for the first time it was so much smaller then that crowded downstairs full of poetry racks of tattered little mags against the wall those rickety white tables where folks sat reading/writing Vesuvio’s was like an adjunct office Arriving again a year later, two kids in tow Lawrence gave me a huge stack […]

The Truth, by Carl Phillips (3/29/2015) And now, the horse is entering the sea, and the sea holds it. Where are we? Behind us, the beach, yes, its scrim, yes, of grass, dune, sky—Desire goes by, and though it’s wind of course making the grass bend, unbend, we say it’s desire again, passing us by, souveniring us with gospel the grass, […]

City Moon, by Francisco Aragón (3/30/2015) Perfect disc of moon, huge and simmering low on the capital’s filthy horizon— ¡Ay, qué luna más hermosa! she says pushing the stroller slowly down Atocha. And gorgeous too the firm-thighed boys from Lisbon a block away, who work Kilometer Zero’s sidewalk, the neon shoestore they lean against cupping the flames of passing strangers. The […]

Electricity, by Geoffrey Nutter (3/31/2015) Children picking through the rocks beside the river on a spring day. What are they looking for? Old green net tangled on broken pilings; a couple embracing on the tumbledown esplanade. Some fishermen drinking beer from tall brown bottles. Broken shells, tire treads, rusted aluminum pull-tabs- downriver, near the sun, the great echoes and the […]

|admin| Quick Announcement (3/31/2015) admin: I’m thinking about posting two poems a day (one in the morning, one in the evening) through the month of April, and maybe past April if it works out alright. I just really want you guys to let me know if you have any problems with that, because I don’t want anyone to feel like […]

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