Monthly Archives: April 2014

a toast by ilya kaminsky. 0

“A Toast” by Ilya Kaminsky To your voice, a mysterious virtue, to the 53 bones of one foot, the four dimensions of breathing, to pine, redwood, sworn-fern, peppermint, to hyacinth and bluebell lily, to the train conductor’s donkey on a rope, to smells of lemons, a boy pissing splendidly against the trees. Bless each thing […]

unholy sonnet 11 by mark jarman 0

“Unholy Sonnet 11” by Mark Jarman Half asleep in prayer I said the right thing And felt a sudden pleasure come into The room or my own body. In the dark, Charged with a change of atmosphere, at first I couldn’t tell my body from the room. And I was wide awake, full of this […]

muffin of sunsets by elaine equi 1

“Muffin of Sunsets” by Elaine Equi The sky is melting. Me too. Who hasn’t seen it this way? Pink between the castlework of buildings. Pensive syrup drizzled over clouds. It is almost catastrophic how heavenly. A million poets, at least, have stood in this very spot, groceries in hand, wondering: “Can I witness the Rapture […]

a letter to atticus about world vision. 0

When there are difficult things to talk about, I find that it’s easier if I think about what I would want to say to Atticus. So I’m breaking out the old-school letter to clarify a few things for myself. This is my attempt to explain why things have been a little quiet here the past […]

a poem and a book for the end of the world. 1

“The Mystery of Meteors” by Eleanor Lerman I am out before dawn, marching a small dog through a meager park Boulevards angle away, newspapers fly around like blind white birds Two days in a row I have not seen the meteors though the radio news says they are overhead Leonid’s brimstones are barred by clouds; […]

on the back porch (a poem every north carolinian should read). 0

Atticus and I went to the NC Literary Festival today. Mostly the boys played with trucks. And Legos. But we did go to a couple of sessions. In honor of the festival, let me point you in the direction of this article in Our State about 10 poems every North Carolinian should read (preferably out […]

old men playing basketball (a poem for the final four). 0

“Old Men Playing Basketball” by B. H. Fairchild The heavy bodies lunge, the broken language of fake and drive, glamorous jump shot slowed to a stutter. Their gestures, in love again with the pure geometry of curves, rise toward the ball, falter, and fall away. On the boards their hands and fingertips tremble in tense […]

into something good 0

“blessing the boats” by Lucille Clifton (at St. Mary’s) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our understanding carry you out beyond the face of fear may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back may you open your eyes to water water waving […]

scandal by lola ridge (because thursdays are for scandal). 0

“Scandal” by Lola Ridge Aren’t there bigger things to talk about Than a window in Greenwich Village And hyacinths sprouting Like little puce poems out of a sick soul? Some cosmic hearsay— As to whom—it can’t be Mars! put the moon—that way…. Or what winds do to canyons Under the tall stars… Or even How […]

living with questions (a review of living the questions by david felten and jeff procter-murphy). 2

In my early 20s, I reveled in books and songs about the questions of faith. One book in particular that I loved was called Living the Questions by Carolyn Arends. (I was a hard-core Carolyn Arends fan, you guys. I quoted her in my valedictorian speech. Of course I bought her book.) At that time, […]

in praise of zig zags (a poem for the math teachers). 2

“In Praise of Zigzags” by Jane O. Wayne For a Girl Failing Geometry Maybe she does her homework the way she does her chores. She moves quickly when she vacuums, forgetting corners in the living room, repeating others, zigzags recklessly across the carpet, raising those pale tracks behind her in the wool, crossing and recrossing […]

this world by mary oliver. 13

April is National Poetry Month. Get ready, y’all. I am posting a poem every day because it was so much fun last year. “This World” by Mary Oliver I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it nothing fancy. But it seems impossible. Whatever the subject, the morning sun glimmers […]