Ocean Beach, by Randall Mann (1972-) seems cruel this August, the skeletal chill, even the gulls a little ambivalent. There are warnings everywhere, what passes for warning: kelp like dead sea creatures, ropy tails and flies; the dog stalking the crow. There’s no getting around it, either, the water, its epic associations, etc. […]
Some Part of the Lyric, by Gregory Orr Some part of the lyric wants to exclude the world with all its chaos and grief and so conceives shapes (a tear, a globe of dew) whose cool symmetries create a mood of security. Which is something all need and so, the lyric’s urge to exclude what […]
Ornithology, by Lynda Hull (1954-1994) Gone to seed, ailanthus, the poverty tree. Take a phrase, then fracture it, the pods’ gaudy nectarine shades ripening to parrots taking flight, all crest and tail feathers. A musical idea. Macaws scarlet and violet, tangerine as a song the hue of sunset where my street becomes water and down […]
Exquisite Candidate, by Denise Duhamel (1961-) I can promise you this: food in the White House will change! No more granola, only fried eggs flipped the way we like them. And ham ham ham! Americans need ham! Nothing airy like debate for me! Pigs will become the new symbol of glee, displacing smiley faces and […]
The Poem I Couldn’t Write, by David Allan Evans (1940-) Last night I gave up again, tossed the damned sheets in the wastebasket, turned out the lights and went upstairs. Brushing my teeth before the bathroom mirror, there it was, the poem I couldn’t write. When I frowned, it frowned. When I smiled, it smiled. […]
Harriet Street, by Carol Frost (1948-) The fadedness of stone markers shows the wear of weather. And here, long life near a yard of bone. She’s naked and weeds her garden, and seems to stare at nothing. The hot winds swings its sharpened sickle where dark deeds jumble with good, and begun things end. The […]
Windy Day, by David Maria Turoldo (1916-1992) I have no pity for this naked heart of mine; just as one windy day a tree was beating the glass with insane arms the sea was one huge sob; And there on the shore foam-covered stones were scarcely breathing, and there was wreckage of boats […]
Silver Roses, by Rachel Wetzsteon (1967-2009) The strings, as if they knew the lovers are about to meet, begin to soar, and when he marches in the door they soar some more—half ecstasy, half pain, the musical equivalent of rain— while children who have grown up with one stare steal further looks across a crowded […]
The Reservoir, by Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge (1947-) 1 The reservoir is trying to freeze over with an expanding map shaped like an angel Separated lovers on a coast keep walking toward each other. Low sun reddens their faces without heat They are weary of always moving so seldom touching, but never think to move […]
The Protest, by Grace Cavalieri (1932-) I was supposed to make a five minute speech so I took a tranquilizer but the speech was cancelled. I was to give another speech but this too was cancelled. As you can imagine, I stayed tranquilized my whole life without speaking, When the fire and […]