poetry Emily Dickinson, "I worked for chaff and earning Wheat" (J 1269) The question for us is our devotion to the worthless.
poetry Graham Foust, "The Only Poem" I'm staring at Foust's last lines of "The Only Poem:" Even in danger, / you're a writer, liar.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "There is no Frigate like a Book" ...how to respond to someone determined to tell you everything you're reading is worthless?
poetry Jane Hirshfield, "A Chair in Snow" I thought I should share Jane Hirshfield's "A Chair in Snow" because it so beautifully illustrates the weight of the season.
emily dickinson Emily Dickinson, "The power to be true to You" (464) Dickinson does not inch toward the cosmic.
poetry Five Short Meditations on Rae Armantrout's "Djinn" Armantrout's first stanza, about the terrain ghosts create, brings into relief the strange world-building of lying.
poetry Jane Hirshfield, "I sat in the sun" Jane Hirshfield opens the sacredness of the everyday in "I sat in the sun."
poetry Elisa Gabbert, "In Nature" Elisa Gabbert's "In Nature," for me, remarks upon a scholarly problem, if not a philosophical one.
poetry Osip Mandelstam, "The Poem" Knowing the most essential part of your experience can find words is freedom.
poetry Kay Ryan, "Poetry is a Kind of Money" "Poetry is a kind of money." I can't imagine writing that and not saying to yourself man I wish.
poetry Mara Pastor, "Left" I would advise you to read this poem by the prominent Puerto Rican poet Mara Pastor a few times, inhaling its ferocity.
poetry Rae Armantrout, "Decor" This text serves as the intersection of a few complicated themes: the cheapness of capitalism, relationships, and identity.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "I had no time to Hate" ...this little poem starts with trying to look into a quiet, lush landscape painting and wish yourself there.
poetry Kay Ryan, "The Elephant in the Room" I don't want to admit I'm being squeezed. I don't want to admit I lack room. I want to pretend like everything's normal.
poetry Jane Kenyon, "Evening Sun" Jane Kenyon's startling starting question, immediate and personal for us all: "Why does this light force me back / to my childhood?"
poetry Emily Dickinson, "Experience is the Angled Road" (910) Many have used poetry to generate lingering, meditative essays, but Dickinson is in rare form with "Experience is the Angled Road."
poetry Jane Kenyon, "Not Writing" Kyla Houbolt's "On Not Writing" brought back memories of this poem, "Not Writing," by the inimitable Jane Kenyon.
poetry Rita Dove, "Little Town" This little, haiku-like poem by Rita Dove got me thinking about a lot of places I've been.
poetry Suzanne Buffam, "On Antigone" Suzanne Buffam's little lyric "On Antigone" strikes me as if the perfect words have been spoken.
poetry Yosa Buson, "Early summer rain" Lots of light rain in South Jersey makes everything a bit too overgrown.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "I can wade Grief" (252) Dickinson's darkly comic opening should rankle us. Really? You can wade grief?