tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61999598069165805932024-03-13T10:14:43.850-07:00the wednesday poem"There is also in each of us the maverick, the darling stubborn one who won't listen, who insists, who chooses preference or the spirited guess over yardsticks or even history. I suspect this maverick is somewhat what the soul is, or at least that the soul lives close by." - Mary Oliverelizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-39994896954209074502018-06-21T09:24:00.001-07:002018-06-21T09:24:09.213-07:00Merry Summer Solstice!Be still now, be still.<br />
See the sunlight on your hands<br />
and on air, your breath.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2017/06/in-memory-of-edith-shiffert">Edith Shiffert</a><br />
1916-2017elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-26841244219733960252018-01-19T14:55:00.000-08:002018-01-19T14:55:08.854-08:00To peace and good fortune in this new year!<br />
The Cranes, Texas January<br />
<br />
I call my wife outdoors to have her listen,<br />
to turn her ears upward, beyond the cloud-veiled <br />
sky where the moon dances thin light,<br />
to tell her, “Don’t hear the cars on the freeway—<br />
<br />
it’s not the truck-rumble. It is and is not<br />
the sirens.” She stands there, on deck<br />
a rocking boat, wanting to please the captain <br />
who would have her hear the inaudible.<br />
<br />
Her eyes, so blue the day sky is envious,<br />
fix blackly on me, her mouth poised on question <br />
like a stone. But, she hears, after all.<br />
January on the Gulf, <br />
<br />
warm wind washing over us, <br />
we stand chilled in the winter of those voices.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/mark-sanders">Mark Sanders</a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-68704237286323488152017-12-21T07:17:00.003-08:002017-12-21T07:23:40.395-08:00Merry Winter Solstice 2017!<div>
Winter Solstice Chant</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,<br />
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes<br />
with the edge of winter sky<br />
leaning over us in icy stars.<br />
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,<br />
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/annie-finch">Annie Finch</a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-50992012277359152932017-11-06T10:29:00.002-08:002017-11-06T10:29:55.705-08:00Joy Harjo reads this Wednesday at PCC Center for the Arts 6-8pm! <br />
<br />
Becoming Seventy<br />
<br />
<i><br />Knoxville, December 27, 2016, for Marilyn Kallet’s 70th birthday.<br /> This poem was constructed to carry any memory you want to hold close</i>.<br />
<br />
<br />
We<br />
<br />
<br />
arrived<br />
<br />
<br />
when the days<br />
<br />
<br />
grew legs of night.<br />
<br />
<br />
Chocolates were offered.<br />
<br />
<br />
We ate latkes for hours<br />
<br />
<br />
to celebrate light and friends.<br />
<br />
<br />
We will keep going despite dark<br />
<br />
<br />
or a madman in a white house dream.<br />
<br />
<br />
Let’s talk about something else said the dog<br />
<br />
<br />
who begs faithfully at the door of goodwill:<br />
<br />
<br />
a biscuit will do, a voice of reason, meat sticks — <br />
<br />
<br />
I dreamed all of this I told her, you, me, and Paris — <br />
<br />
<br />
it was impossible to make it through the tragedy<br />
<br />
<br />
without poetry. What are we without winds becoming words?<br />
<br />
<br />
Becoming old children born to children born to sing us into<br />
<br />
<br />
love. Another level of love, beyond the neighbor’s holiday light<br />
<br />
<br />
display proclaiming goodwill to all men who have lost their way in the dark<br />
<br />
<br />
as they tried to find the car door, the bottle hidden behind the seat, reason<br />
<br />
<br />
to keep on going past all the times they failed at sharing love, love. It’s weak they think — <br />
<br />
<br />
or some romantic bullshit, a movie set propped up behind on slats, said the wizard<br />
<br />
<br />
of junk understanding who pretends to be the wise all-knowing dog behind a cheap fan.<br />
<br />
<br />
It’s in the plan for the new world straining to break through the floor of this one, said the Angel of<br />
<br />
<br />
All-That-You-Know-and-Forgot-and-Will-Find, as she flutters the edge of your mind when you try to<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
sing the blues to the future of everything that might happen and will. All the losses come tumbling<br />
<br />
<br />
down, down, down at three in the morning as do all the shouldn’t-haves or should-haves. It doesn’t matter, girl —<br />
<br />
<br />
I’ll be here to pick you up, said Memory, in her red shoes, and the dress that showed off brown legs. When you met<br />
<br />
<br />
him at the age you have always loved, hair perfect with a little wave, and that shine in your skin from believing what was<br />
<br />
<br />
impossible was possible, you were not afraid. You stood up in love in a French story and there fell ever<br />
<br />
<br />
a light rain as you crossed the Seine to meet him for café in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. You wrote a poem beneath the tender<br />
<br />
<br />
skin from your ribs to your hip bone, in the slender then, and you are still writing that song to convince the sweetness of every<br />
<br />
<br />
bit of straggling moonlight, star and sunlight to become words in your mouth, in your kiss — that kiss that will never die, you will all<br />
<br />
<br />
ways fall in love. It doesn’t matter how old, how many days, hours, or memories, we can fall in love over and over<br />
<br />
<br />
again. The Seine or Tennessee or any river with a soul knows the depths descending when it comes to seeing the sun or moon stare<br />
<br />
<br />
back, without shame, remorse, or guilt. This is what I remember she told her husband when they bedded down that night in the house that would begin<br />
<br />
<br />
marriage. That house was built of twenty-four doves, rugs from India, cooking recipes from seven generations of mothers and their sisters,<br />
<br />
<br />
and wave upon wave of tears, and the concrete of resolution for the steps that continue all the way to the heavens, past guardian dogs, dog<br />
<br />
<br />
after dog to protect. They are humble earth angels, and the rowdiest, even nasty. You try and lick yourself like that, imagine. And the Old<br />
<br />
<br />
Woman laughed as she slipped off her cheap shoes and parked them under the bed that lies at the center of the garden of good and evil. She’d seen it all. Done it<br />
<br />
<br />
more than once. Tonight, she just wanted a good sleep, and picked up the book of poetry by her bed, which was over a journal she kept when her mother was dying.<br />
<br />
<br />
These words from May Sarton she kept in the fourth room of her heart, “Love, come upon him warily and deep / For if he startle first it were as well / to bind a fox’s<br />
<br />
<br />
throat with a gold bell /As hold him when it is his will to leap.” And she considered that every line of a poem was a lead line into the spirit world to capture a<br />
<br />
<br />
bit of memory, pieces of gold confetti, a kind of celebration. We all want to be remembered, even memory, even the way the light came in the kitchen<br />
<br />
<br />
window, when her mother turned up the dial on that cool mist color of a radio, when memory crossed the path of longing and took mother’s arm and she put down her apron<br />
<br />
<br />
said, “I don’t mind if I do,” and they danced, you watching, as you began your own cache of remembering. Already you had stored the taste of mother as milk, father as a labor<br />
<br />
<br />
of sweat and love, and night as a lonely boat of stars that took you into who you were before you slid through the hips of the story. There are no words when you cross the<br />
<br />
<br />
gate of forbidden waters, or is it a sheer scarf of the finest silk, or is it something else that causes you to forget. Nothing is ever forgotten says the god of remembering<br />
<br />
<br />
who protects the heartbeat of every little cell of knowing from the Antarctic to the soft spot at the top of this planetary baby. Oh baby, come here, let me tell you the story<br />
<br />
<br />
of the party you will never forget, no matter where you go, where you are, or where you will be when you cross the line and say, no more. No more greedy kings, no more disappointments, no more orphans,<br />
<br />
<br />
or thefts of souls or lands, no more killing for the sport of killing. No more, no more, except more of the story so I will understand exactly what I am doing here, and why, she said to the fox<br />
<br />
<br />
guardian who took her arm to help her cross the road that was given to the care of Natives who made sure the earth spirits were fed with songs, and the other things they loved to eat. They like sweets, cookies, and flowers.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was getting late and the fox guardian picked up her books as she hurried through the streets of strife. But it wasn’t getting late. There was no late, only a plate of tamales on the counter waiting to be<br />
<br />
<br />
or not to be. At this age, said the fox, we are closer to the not to be, which is the to be in the fields of sweet grasses. Wherever you are, enjoy the evening, how the sun walks the horizon before cross<br />
<br />
<br />
sing over to be, and we then exist under the realm of the moon. There’s where fears slay us, in the dark of the howling mind. We all battle. Befriend them, the moon said as a crab skittered under her skirt, her daughter in<br />
<br />
<br />
the high chair, waiting for cereal and toast. What a girl she turned out to be, a willow tree, a blessing to the winds, to her family. There she is married, and we start the story all over again, said her father<br />
<br />
<br />
in a toast to the happiness of who we are and who we are becoming as Change in a new model sedan whips it down the freeway toward the generations that follow, one after another in the original<br />
<br />
<br />
lands of the Mvskoke who are still here. Nobody goes anywhere though we are always leaving and returning. It’s a ceremony. Sunrise occurs everywhere, in lizard time, human time, or a fern uncurling time. We<br />
<br />
<br />
instinctually reach for light food, we digest it, make love, art or trouble of it. The sun crowns us at noon. The whole earth is a queen. Then there are always goodbyes. At sunset say goodbye to hurt, to suffering, to the pain you caused others,<br />
<br />
<br />
or yourself. Goodbye, goodbye, to Carrie Fisher, the Star Wars phenomenon, and George Michael, the singer. They were planets in our emotional universe. Some of my memories are opened by the image of love on screen in an<br />
<br />
<br />
imagined future, or broken open when the sax solo of “Careless Whisper” blows through the communal heart. Yes, there’s a cosmic consciousness. Jung named it but it was there long before named by Vedic and Mvskoke scientists. And, there is<br />
<br />
<br />
a cosmic hearteousness — for the heart is the higher mind and nothing can be forgotten there, no ever or ever. How do I sing this so I don’t forget? Ask the poets. Each word is a box that can be opened or closed. Then a train of words, phrases<br />
<br />
<br />
garnered by music and the need for rhythm to organize chaos. Like right here, now, in this poem is the transition phase. I remembered it while giving birth, summer sun bearing down on the city melting asphalt but there we were, my daughter<br />
<br />
<br />
and I, at the door between worlds. I was happier than ever before to welcome her, happiness was the path she chose to enter, and I couldn’t push yet, not yet, and then there appeared a pool of the bluest water. We waited there for a breath<br />
<br />
<br />
to catch up, and then it did, and she took it that girl who was beautiful beyond dolphin dreaming, and we made it, we did, to the other side of suffering. This is the story our mothers tell but we couldn’t hear it in our ears stuffed with Barbie advertising,<br />
<br />
<br />
with our mothers’ own loathing set in place by patriarchal scripture, the smothering rules to stop insurrection by domesticated slaves, or wives. It hurt everybody. The fathers cannot know what they are feeling in such a spiritual backwash. Worship<br />
<br />
<br />
boxes set into place by the need for money and power will not beget freedom. Only warships. For freedom, freedom, oh freedom sang the slaves, the oar rhythm of the blues lifting up the spirits of peoples whose bodies were worn out, or destroyed by a man’s slash,<br />
<br />
<br />
hit of greed. This is our memory too, said America. Heredity is a field of blood, celebration, and forgetfulness. Don’t take on more than you can carry, said the eagle to his twin sons, fighting each other in the sky over a fox, dangling between<br />
<br />
<br />
them. It’s that time of the year, when we eat tamales and latkes. We light candles, fires to make the way for a newborn child, for fresh understanding. Demons will try to make houses out of jealousy, anger, pride, greed, or more destructive material. They place them in a<br />
<br />
<br />
part of the body that will hold them: liver, heart, knee, or brain. So, my friend, let’s let that go, for joy, for chocolates made of ashes, mangos, grapefruit, or chili from Oaxaca, for sparkling wine from Spain, for these children who show up in our dreams and want to live at any cost because<br />
<br />
<br />
we are here to feed them joy. Your soul is so finely woven the silkworms went on strike, said the mulberry tree. We all have mulberry trees in the memory yard. They hold the place for skinned knees earned by small braveries, cousins you love who are gone, a father cutting a watermelon in the summer on the porch, and a mother so in love that her heart breaks — it will never be the same, yet all memory bends to fit. The heart has uncountable rooms. We turn to leave here, and so will the hedgehog who makes a home next to that porch. We become birds, poems.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/joy-harjo">Joy Harjo</a>elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-23108485949958269852017-10-17T09:37:00.002-07:002017-10-17T09:37:46.254-07:00"I feel that the universe is full of glorious energy..." Richard WilburFor C.<br />
<br />
After the clash of elevator gates <br />
And the long sinking, she emerges where, <br />
A slight thing in the morning’s crosstown glare, <br />
She looks up toward the window where he waits, <br />
Then in a fleeting taxi joins the rest <br />
Of the huge traffic bound forever west. <br />
<br />
On such grand scale do lovers say good-bye— <br />
Even this other pair whose high romance <br />
Had only the duration of a dance, <br />
And who, now taking leave with stricken eye, <br />
See each in each a whole new life forgone. <br />
For them, above the darkling clubhouse lawn, <br />
<br />
Bright Perseids flash and crumble; while for these <br />
Who part now on the dock, weighed down by grief <br />
And baggage, yet with something like relief, <br />
It takes three thousand miles of knitting seas <br />
To cancel out their crossing, and unmake <br />
The amorous rough and tumble of their wake. <br />
<br />
<br />
We are denied, my love, their fine tristesse <br />
And bittersweet regrets, and cannot share <br />
The frequent vistas of their large despair, <br />
Where love and all are swept to nothingness; <br />
Still, there’s a certain scope in that long love <br />
Which constant spirits are the keepers of, <br />
<br />
And which, though taken to be tame and staid, <br />
Is a wild sostenuto of the heart, <br />
A passion joined to courtesy and art <br />
Which has the quality of something made, <br />
Like a good fiddle, like the rose’s scent, <br />
Like a rose window or the firmament.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/richard-wilbur">Richard Wilbur</a></div>
<div>
1921-2017</div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-77971967635865484282017-10-05T09:51:00.000-07:002017-10-05T09:51:17.850-07:00Joyful Harvest Full Moon!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">In
Harvest<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Mown
meadows skirt the standing wheat; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">I
linger, for the hay is sweet, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">New-cut
and curing in the sun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Like
furrows, straight, the windrows run, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Fallen,
gallant ranks that tossed and bent <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">When,
yesterday, the west wind went <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">A-rioting
through grass and grain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">To-day
no least breath stirs the plain; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Only
the hot air, quivering, yields <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Illusive
motion to the fields <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Where
not the slenderest tassel swings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Across
the wheat flash sky-blue wings; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">A
goldfinch dangles from a tall, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Full-flowered
yellow mullein; all <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">The
world seems turning blue and gold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Unstartled,
since, even from of old, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Beauty
has brought keen sense of her, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">I
feel the withering grasses stir; <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Along
the edges of the wheat, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">I
hear the rustle of her feet: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">And
yet I know the whole sea lies, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">And
half the earth, between our eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">SophIe
Jewett</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">1861-1909<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-32071119901073636102017-08-11T12:13:00.001-07:002017-08-11T12:18:49.423-07:00Remembering Denis Johnson <div>
Quickly Aging Here</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
1<br />
<div>
<br />
nothing to drink in<br />
the refrigerator but juice from<br />
the pickles come back<br />
long dead, or thin<br />
catsup. i feel i am old</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
now, though surely i<br />
am young enough? i feel that i have had<br />
winters, too many heaped cold<br />
and dry as reptiles into my slack skin.<br />
i am not the kind to win</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and win.<br />
no i am not that kind, i can hear</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
my wife yelling, “goddamnit, quit<br />
running over,” talking to<br />
the stove, yelling, “i<br />
mean it, just stop,” and i am old and</div>
<div>
<br />
2</div>
<div>
<br />
i wonder about everything: birds<br />
clamber south, your car<br />
kaputs in a blazing, dusty<br />
nowhere, things <i>happen</i>, and constantly you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
wish for your slight home, for<br />
your wife’s rusted<br />
voice slamming around the kitchen. so few</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
of us wonder why<br />
we crowded, as strange,<br />
monstrous bodies, blindly into one<br />
another till the bed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
choked, and our range<br />
of impossible maneuvers was gone,<br />
but isn’t it because by dissolving like so<br />
much dust into the sheets we are crowding<br />
south, into the kitchen, into<br />
nowhere?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/denis-johnson">Denis Johnson</a></div>
<div>
1949-2017</div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-69665619685142249752017-07-02T13:14:00.001-07:002017-07-02T13:15:03.052-07:00Here's to summer and the ever-changing teenagers in our lives ~Mermaid Song<br />
<br />
<i>for Aya at fifteen</i><br />
<br />
Damp-haired from the bath, you drape yourself <br />
upside down across the sofa, reading, <br />
one hand idly sunk into a bowl<br />
of crackers, goldfish with smiles stamped on. <br />
I think they are growing gills, swimming <br />
up the sweet air to reach you. Small girl, <br />
my slim miracle, they multiply.<br />
In the black hours when I lie sleepless, <br />
near drowning, dread-heavy, your face <br />
is the bright lure I look for, love's hook <br />
piercing me, hauling me cleanly up. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.kimaddonizio.com/">Kim Addonizio</a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-42171782220733037942017-04-27T09:13:00.000-07:002017-04-27T09:19:21.906-07:00Celebrate National Poem In Your Pocket Day TODAY ~ put a poem in your pocket! <br />The Body<br /><br />has its little hobbies. The lung <br />likes its air best after supper, <br />goes deeper there to trade up <br />for oxygen, give everything else <br />away. (And before supper, yes, <br />during too, but there’s <br />something about evening, that <br />slow breath of the day noticed: oh good, <br />still coming, still going ... ) As for <br />bones—femur, spine, <br />the tribe of them in there—they harden <br />with use. The body would like <br />a small mile or two. Thank you. <br />It would like it on a bike <br />or a run. Or in the water. Blue. <br />And food. A habit that involves <br />a larger circumference where a garden’s <br />involved, beer is brewed, cows <br />wake the farmer with their fullness, <br />a field surrenders its wheat, and wheat <br />understands I will be crushed <br />into flour and starry-dust <br />the whole room, the baker <br />sweating, opening a window <br />to acknowledge such remarkable <br />confetti. And the brain, <br />locked in its strange <br />dual citizenship, idles there in the body, <br />neatly terraced and landscaped. <br />Or left to ruin, such a brain, <br />wild roses growing <br />next to the sea. The body is <br />gracious about that. Oh, their <br />scent sometimes. Their <br />tangle. In truth, in secret, <br />the first thing <br />in morning the eye longs to see.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/marianne-boruch">Marianne Boruch</a><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poets.org/national-poetry-month/poem-your-pocket-day"><br /></a></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.poets.org/national-poetry-month/poem-your-pocket-day">Poem In Your Pocket Day 2017</a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-35972453399222476532017-04-06T09:17:00.000-07:002017-04-06T09:17:48.168-07:00It's April & that means National Poetry Month! Ocean Vuong Reads with Camille Rankine at the Poetry Center on April 6th, 7pm!Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong<br />
<br />
Ocean, don’t be afraid.<br />
The end of the road is so far ahead<br />
it is already behind us.<br />
Don’t worry.<br />
Your father is only your father<br />
until one of you forgets. Like how the spine<br />
won’t remember its wings<br />
no matter how many times our knees<br />
kiss the pavement. Ocean,<br />
are you listening? The most beautiful part<br />
of your body is wherever<br />
your mother’s shadow falls.<br />
Here’s the house with childhood<br />
whittled down to a single red tripwire.<br />
Don’t worry. Just call it horizon<br />
& you’ll never reach it.<br />
Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not<br />
a lifeboat. Here’s the man<br />
whose arms are wide enough to gather<br />
your leaving. & here the moment,<br />
just after the lights go out, when you can still see<br />
the faint torch between his legs.<br />
How you use it again & again<br />
to find your own hands.<br />
You asked for a second chance<br />
& are given a mouth to empty into.<br />
Don’t be afraid, the gunfire<br />
is only the sound of people<br />
trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean,<br />
get up. The most beautiful part of your body<br />
is where it’s headed. & remember,<br />
loneliness is still time spent<br />
with the world. Here’s the room with everyone in it.<br />
Your dead friends passing<br />
through you like wind<br />
through a wind chime. Here’s a desk<br />
with the gimp leg & a brick<br />
to make it last. Yes, here’s a room<br />
so warm & blood-close,<br />
I swear, you will wake—& mistake these walls<br />
for skin.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.oceanvuong.com/">Ocean Vuong</a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-67511142170646424272017-03-01T15:29:00.001-08:002017-03-01T15:29:40.777-08:00To the first day of March and wide open prairie ~<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To make a prairie <i>(1755)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To make a prairie it takes one clover and one bee,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One clover, and a bee.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And revery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The revery alone will do,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If bees are few.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/emily-dickinson"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Emily Dickinson</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1830-1886</span>elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-50162785640680435122017-02-13T23:15:00.001-08:002017-02-13T23:15:36.541-08:00Poem for V-Day!You, Therefore<br />
<br />
You are like me, you will die too, but not today:<br />
you, incommensurate, therefore the hours shine:<br />
if I say to you “To you I say,” you have not been<br />
set to music, or broadcast live on the ghost<br />
radio, may never be an oil painting or<br />
Old Master’s charcoal sketch: you are<br />
a concordance of person, number, voice,<br />
and place, strawberries spread through your name<br />
as if it were budding shrubs, how you remind me<br />
of some spring, the waters as cool and clear<br />
(late rain clings to your leaves, shaken by light wind),<br />
which is where you occur in grassy moonlight:<br />
and you are a lily, an aster, white trillium<br />
or viburnum, by all rights mine, white star<br />
in the meadow sky, the snow still arriving<br />
from its earthwards journeys, here where there is<br />
no snow (I dreamed the snow was you,<br />
when there was snow), you are my right,<br />
have come to be my night (your body takes on<br />
the dimensions of sleep, the shape of sleep<br />
becomes you): and you fall from the sky<br />
with several flowers, words spill from your mouth<br />
in waves, your lips taste like the sea, salt-sweet (trees<br />
and seas have flown away, I call it<br />
loving you): home is nowhere, therefore you,<br />
a kind of dwell and welcome, song after all,<br />
and free of any eden we can name<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/reginald-shepherd?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Daily%20Poem%20of%20the%20Day&utm_content=Daily%20Poem%20of%20the%20Day+CID_ddac8e33b3840cfda7f419f5b98a3b2b&utm_source=Campaign%20Monitor&utm_term=Biography">Reginald Shepherd</a><br />
(1963-2008)elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-1384361217049428872017-02-07T09:57:00.000-08:002017-02-07T10:23:16.300-08:00International Clash Day on my birthday! What could be better? RESIST and Know Your Rights!<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lfInFVPkQs">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lfInFVPkQs</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15FfWj11uys">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15FfWj11uys</a>elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-41364778656697889442016-12-16T20:06:00.000-08:002016-12-16T20:06:13.213-08:00Happy 15th Birthday, Micah!Elemental Phoenix<br />
<br />
Ruler of the Scranamals<br />
<br />
Look in the sky<br />
it is a rare sighting of the<br />
Elemental Phoenix<br />
<br />
He flies around the sky with<br />
magic wings<br />
He searches around a forest<br />
with his powers<br />
<br />
He loves to play with squirrels<br />
<br />
At the end of the day<br />
he takes a nap or two<br />
and does it all over again<br />
<br />
Micah Bernard<br />
<div>
(Age 10)</div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-43526372044531298872016-12-02T20:08:00.000-08:002016-12-02T20:08:10.050-08:00Here's to the celebration of the olfactory and the circular nature of memory and desire ~<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 13.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oracle
of flame<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">How
many lives<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Echo
within<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
coiled histories<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">One<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Rose<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ ~</span></b><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">At the
lip of amber<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Wet
ink<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Pools
within the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Circular
architecture<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of
memory<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Becoming<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Aqueous<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ ~</span></b><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oval-Eye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Rosette
of protection<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">House<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
private<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
resinous<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Library
of the soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ ~</span></b><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">After
years<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">At sea<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Arriving<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">On
land<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Touch
me…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Almost</span></i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ ~</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">To
look back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">One
last time<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Desire
and memory<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ask us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">To
trust<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Without
knowing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ ~</span></b><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Quivering <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Leaf
to leaf<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gather
the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">"Immeasurable
endurance"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Desire<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Elizabeth
Salper<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">This poetic concoction was inspired by a <a href="http://www.la-curie.com/"><span style="color: blue;">La Curie</span></a> perfume</span></i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Artisan perfume </span></i><b><i><span style="color: red; font-family: "Andalus","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~ </span></i></b><i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Tucson,
Arizona</span></i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">"Immeasurable endurance" from the poem The Roses
XXVI</span></i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;">by Rainer Maria Rilke</span></i><span style="font-family: Andalus, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-69633034199364483122016-11-11T17:13:00.000-08:002016-11-11T17:20:28.285-08:00After election heartbreak and outrage: 3 poems and a safety pin to offer my teenage son ~<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"As long as we are able to </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">be extravagant we will be</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">hugely and damply</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">extravagant. Then we will drop</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">foil by foil to the ground. This </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">is our unalterable task, and we do it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">joyfully."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And they went on, "Listen,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">the heart-shackles are not, as you think</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">death, illness, pain,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">unrequited hope, not loneliness, but</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">selfishness."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Their fragrance all the while rising</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">from their blind bodies, making me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">spin with joy."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/mary-oliver"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mary Oliver</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> ***</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Good Bones</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Life is short, though I keep this from my children.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Life is short, and I've shortened mine </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">in a thousand delicious ill-advised ways,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'll keep from my children. The world is at least</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">fifty percent terrible, and that's a conservative</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">estimate, though I keep this from my children.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">is at least half terrible, and for every kind</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">stranger, there is one who would break you,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">though I keep this from my children. I am trying</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">walking you through a real shithole, chirps on</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">about good bones: This place could be beautiful,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">right? You could make this place beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://maggiesmithpoet.com/"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maggie Smith</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">from <i><a href="http://waxwingmag.org/">Waxwing</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> ***</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
Gate A-4</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well— one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her . What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stani schway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies— little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts— from her bag and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single traveler declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo— we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then the airline broke out free apple juice and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend— by now we were holding hands— had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate— once the crying of confusion stopped— seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/naomi-shihab-nye"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Naomi Shihab Nye</span></a></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-87947268785945669662016-08-09T09:51:00.000-07:002016-08-09T12:00:34.648-07:00To the monsoon rains in Southern Arizona and Robert Creeley!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">The Rain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">All night the sound had<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">come back again,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">and again falls<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">this quiet, persistent rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">What am I to myself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">that must be remembered,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">insisted upon,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">so often? Is it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">that never the ease,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">even the hardness,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">of rain falling<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">will have for me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">something other than this,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">something not so insistent —<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">am I to be locked in this<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">final uneasiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Love, if you love me,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">lie next to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Be for me, like rain,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">the getting out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">lust of intentional indifference.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Be wet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;">with a decent happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/robert-creeley"><span style="color: blue;">Robert Creeley</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-43467923718325205892016-06-20T15:23:00.003-07:002016-06-21T13:30:25.224-07:00Merry Summer Solstice with the Strawberry Full Moon! AND...Happy 59th wedding anniversary to my Mom and Dad!<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Solstice</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">How today our patron star</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">whose ancient vista is the long view</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">turns its wide brightness now and here:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Below, we loll outdoors, sing & make fire.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">We build no henge</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">but after our swim, linger</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">by the pond. Dapples flicker</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">pine trunks by the water.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Buzz & hum & wing & song combine.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Light builds a monument to its passing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Frogs content themselves in bullish chirps,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">hoopskirt blossoms</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">on thimbleberries fall, peeper toads</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">hop, lazy —</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"> Apex. The throaty world sings <i>ripen</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Our grove slips past the sun's long kiss.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">We dress.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">We head home in other starlight.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Our earthly time is sweetening from this.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/tess-taylor">Tess Taylor</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></span></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-18428556250413791762016-04-21T09:20:00.001-07:002016-04-21T10:29:49.588-07:00Today is Poem in Your Pocket DayBefore You Cut Loose<br />
<br />
put dogs on the list<br />
of difficult things to lose. Those dogs ditched<br />
on the North York Moors or the Sussex Downs<br />
or hurled like bags of sand from rented cars<br />
have followed their noses to market towns<br />
and bounced like balls in their owners's arms.<br />
I heard one story of a dog that swam<br />
to the English coast from from the Isle of Man,<br />
and a dog that carried eggs and bacon<br />
and a morning paper from the village<br />
surfaced umpteen leagues and two years later,<br />
bacon eaten but the eggs unbroken,<br />
newsprint dry as tinder, to the letter.<br />
A dog might wander the width of the map<br />
to bury its head in its owner's lap,<br />
crawl the last mile to dab a bleeding paw<br />
against its own front door. To die at home,<br />
a dog might walk its four legs to the bone.<br />
You can take off the the tag and the collar<br />
but a dog wears one coat and one colour.<br />
A dog got rid of -- that's a dog for life.<br />
No dog howls like a dog kicked out at night.<br />
Try looking a dog like that in the eye.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/simon-armitage">Simon Armitage</a>elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-64446819542549885372016-04-07T08:57:00.000-07:002016-04-07T08:57:15.893-07:00It's National Poetry Month!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt -12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Squash Under the Bed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There was always crooked-neck squash under our beds.<br />
The space under the bed met the criteria of a cool, dark, dry place.<br />
These large, hard-skinned squash with speckled, serrated,<br />
green and yellow designs shared space under our beds<br />
with new cowboy boots, lost socks, forgotten toys,<br />
dust and little spiders.<br />
The squash rested under there with our memory of summer.<br />
Awaiting winter darkness.<br />
With the cold weather, we split the hard skin and expose the<br />
rich yellow meat inside, the bounty of large seeds entangled<br />
in the wetness of their origin.<br />
We saved the seeds for next summer.<br />
We eat the soft, sweet meat of the winter squash.<br />
We swallow the warmth of summer.<br />
<br /><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/ofelia-zepeda">Ofelia Zepeda</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt -12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">From <i>Where Clouds Are
Formed<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-48952780494932197812015-12-30T20:18:00.000-08:002016-01-06T18:52:41.878-08:00Here's to the end of a year and the beginning of a new year! And to Venus, the brightest point of light ~The Year's Awakening<br />
<br />
How do you know that the pilgrim track<br />
Along the belting zodiac<br />
Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds<br />
Is traced by now to the Fishes' bounds<br />
And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud<br />
Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,<br />
And never as yet a tinct of spring<br />
Has shown in the Earth's apparelling;<br />
O vespering bird, how do you know,<br />
How do you know?<br />
<br />
How do you know, deep underground,<br />
Hid in your bed from sight and sound,<br />
Without a turn in temperature,<br />
With weather life can scarce endure,<br />
That light has won a fraction's strength,<br />
And day put on some moments' length,<br />
Whereof in merest rote will come,<br />
Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;<br />
O crocus root, how do you know,<br />
How do you know?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/thomas-hardy">Thomas Hardy</a><br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Snow at Night<br />
<br />
I prefer it even to love,<br />
alone and without ghost<br />
it falls a hard weather,<br />
a withdrawing room<br />
that revives me to stolen daylight<br />
in which I feel no wish<br />
to brush a gleaming finish<br />
over the sheen-broken glass<br />
I've arranged and rearranged<br />
as apprentice of mosaics<br />
who will not be taught but asks<br />
to be left alone with the brittle year<br />
so carnivorous of all I'd made.<br />
But the snow I love covers<br />
my beasts and seas,<br />
my ferns and spines<br />
worn through and through.<br />
I will change your life, it says,<br />
to which I say <i>please</i>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/katie-ford">Katie Ford</a><br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
How to Love<br />
<br />
After stepping into the world again,<br />
there is that question of how to love,<br />
how to bundle yourself against the frosted morning —<br />
the crunch of icy grass underfoot, the scrape<br />
of cold wipers along the windshield —<br />
and convert time into distance.<br />
<br />
What song to sing down an empty road<br />
as you begin your morning commute?<br />
And is there enough in you to see, really see,<br />
the three wild turkeys crossing the street<br />
with their featherless heads and stilt-like legs<br />
in search of a morning meal? Nothing to do<br />
but hunker down, wait for them to safely cross.<br />
<br />
As they amble away, you wonder if they want<br />
to be startled back into this world. Maybe you do, too,<br />
waiting for all this to give way to love itself,<br />
to look into the eyes of another and feel something —<br />
the pleasure of a new lover in the unbroken night,<br />
your wings folded around him, on the other side<br />
of this ragged January, as if a long sleep had ended.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/january-gill-oneil">January Gill O'Neil</a><br />
<br />
<br />elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-18643717679453107832015-12-10T17:32:00.000-08:002015-12-10T17:50:10.132-08:00Happy birthday Emily Dickinson and Micah Bernard!A Route of Evanescence<br />
<br />
A Route of Evanescence<br />
With a revolving Wheel <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><br />
A Resonance of Emerald<br />
A Rush of Cochineal <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><br />
And every Blossom on the Bush<br />
Adjusts it's Tumbled Head <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><br />
The mail from Tunis probably,<br />
An easy Morning's Ride <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/emily-dickinson">Emily Dickinson</a><br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Spring<br />
<br />
Oh the Spring<br />
A good time<br />
<br />
We can enjoy the summer...<br />
Solstice<br />
Oh mighty rain<br />
<i>Give/our/plants/water</i><br />
Says the desert man<br />
<br />
Oh Spring finally you,<br />
No more Winter<br />
<br />
Micah Joseph Bernard<br />
(Age 11)<br />
<br />
<br />elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-53147943966157004042015-11-26T15:59:00.004-08:002015-11-26T15:59:53.734-08:00Gratitude & staying rooted Gate A-4<br />
<br />
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning<br />
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:<br />
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please<br />
come to the gate immediately.”<br />
<br />
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.<br />
<br />
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just<br />
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,"<br />
said the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We<br />
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”<br />
<br />
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.<br />
“Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-<br />
se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly<br />
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled<br />
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the<br />
next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is<br />
picking you up? Let’s call him.”<br />
<br />
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would<br />
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to<br />
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just<br />
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while<br />
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I<br />
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know<br />
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.<br />
<br />
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,<br />
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool<br />
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and<br />
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.<br />
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a<br />
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the<br />
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered<br />
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.<br />
<br />
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two<br />
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they<br />
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—<br />
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,<br />
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-<br />
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.<br />
<br />
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This<br />
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that<br />
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about<br />
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.<br />
<br />
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/naomi-shihab-nye">Naomi Shihab Nye</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-18745156347002685102015-11-11T10:06:00.000-08:002015-11-11T11:10:03.292-08:00To November, and the good things around usAround Us<br />
<br />
We need some pines to assuage the darkness<br />
when it blankets the mind,<br />
we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly<br />
as a plane's wing, and a worn bed of<br />
needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,<br />
and a blur or two of a wild thing<br />
that sees and is not seen. We need these things<br />
between appointments, after work,<br />
and, if we keep them, then someone someday,<br />
lying down after a walk<br />
and supper, with the fire hole wet down,<br />
the whole night sky set at a particular<br />
time, without numbers or hours, will cause<br />
a little sound of thanks--a zipper or a snap--<br />
to close round the moment and the thought<br />
of whatever good we did.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/marvin-bell">Marvin Bell</a>elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6199959806916580593.post-9732638327348392552015-09-29T11:04:00.001-07:002015-09-29T11:22:45.615-07:00For Alvaro...Feliz Cumpleaños!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="background-color: #073763; color: cyan;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Soneto IX<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Al golpe de la ola contra la piedra indócil<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">la claridad estalla y establece su rosa<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">y el círculo del mar se reduce a un racimo,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">a una sola gota de sal azul que cae.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Oh radiante magnolia desatada en la espuma,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">magnética viajera cuya muerte florece<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">y eternamente vuelve a ser y a no ser nada:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">sal rota, deslumbrante movimiento marino.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Juntos tú y yo, amor mío, sellamos el silencio,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">mientras destruye el mar sus constantes estatuas<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">y derrumba sus torres de arrebato y blancura,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">porque en la trama de estos tejidos invisibles<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">del agua desbocada, de la incesante arena,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">sostenemos la única y acosada ternura.</span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; padding: 0in;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box; mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">
<br style="box-sizing: border-box; mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">In the wave-strike over
unquiet stones<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">the
brightness bursts and bears the rose<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">and the
ring of water contracts to a cluster<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">to one
drop of azure brine that falls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">O
magnolia radiance breaking in spume,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">magnetic
voyager whose death flowers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">and
returns, eternal, to being and nothingness:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">shattered
brine, dazzling leap of the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Merged,
you and I, my love, seal the silence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">while the
sea destroys its continual forms,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">collapses
its turrets of wildness and whiteness,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">because
in the weft of those unseen garments<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">of
headlong water, and perpetual sand,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">
<!--[endif]--></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;">we bear
the sole, relentless tenderness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/pablo-neruda">Pablo Neruda</a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><i>Translation by A.S. Kline</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
elizabeth salperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18428675035042067582noreply@blogger.com0