poetry Comfort and the Soul: Vsevolod Nekrasov, "The Soul" When I was in graduate school, two words were too much.
poetry On Declaring Oneself: Charles Simic's "Tattooed City" You could say calling yourself "an incomprehensible / Bit of doodle" has nothing to do with the birth of 17th century rationalism.
poetry Irving Feldman, "The Recognitions" One of the best gifts that can be given is paying attention to someone.
poetry Franz Wright, "Solution" It's hard to identify, when living in an area which isn't working for you, what is and isn't knowledge.
poetry The "Soul" in Emily Dickinson's "The Soul selects her own Society" (303) Dickinson, even when choosing her own society, does not fail to remind herself of the cost of company, a cost not unlike isolation...
poetry from Marilyn Kallet's "You Can't" I wouldn't say there's wisdom in everyday life, but seeds of wisdom.
poetry Kyla Houbolt, "hold on" Kyla Houbolt has been writing amazing poetry on a regular basis, and I regret I cannot give all her work the attention it deserves.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "Much Madness is divinest Sense" When I encounter the sentence "Much Madness is divinest Sense," I think back to middle school and high school.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "The Sunset stopped on Cottages" (950) I want Dickinson's confidence, though I can't help but think it hubris.
poetry Kyla Houbolt, "morning" A few of my more fateful encounters have been with those obsessed with simplifying.
poetry Matsuo Bashō, "Lady Butterfly" Bashō witnesses a butterfly with resplendent, patterned wings hovering over an orchid.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "To fight aloud is very brave" (126) Dickinson says "To fight aloud is very brave," and "brave" catches me unguarded. I don't think I've ever been "brave."
poetry Adam Zagajewski, “Auto Mirror” Those who drive wherever they like, whenever they like—I've been jealous of them for so long.
poetry Emily Dickinson, "Our share of night to bear" (133) ...your literal self is on full display during a move.
poetry Kyla Houbolt, "But What Do You Know?" Parts. That's what Houbolt begins with. "[M]aybe the problem is that God has been split up / into parts."
poetry Andrea Cohen, "Night" Andrea Cohen's "Night" sketches the mystery of night so well that I find myself lost in it.
poetry Kobayashi Issa, "Mosquito at my ear" Issa laments one of the more miserable summer experiences. A literal bloodsucker, not content with biting and stealing, makes its presence felt loudly.
poetry Yehuda Amichai, "Forgetting Someone" Yehuda Amichai takes an everyday error—leaving a light on too long—and finds it apt for describing one of our hardest pains, that of having to forget someone.