When you went to the ancient, stone 7-Eleven at Delphi,
did you fly there or walk? Did golden balloons go up to fête your visit?
Did you rise out of your four-poster grape leaf from a dream,
slap down the alarm, yawn, and wake up hungry for Cool Ranch or what?
I imagine you, oh god of poetry…
EACH SECOND LENGTHENS THE DISTANCE
You left only two hours ago
on your five hour drive
Already it is dark and getting cold
I think of you alone in your car
the weak headlights fending the darkness
the tiny lights of other cars like fireflies
Tonight I think of the…Continue
It’s all gone dead dying out
memories the fresh memories that
live only in my mind.
I relive them in flashes
but the distance kills me
so when I hum Stardust
it’s my mother, teaching me to play the piano
playing that piece as I learned it.
At the Point Where Time Has Not Yet Cut
In a field
where cows graze
and walk about
anything can be imagined
perhaps a white egret stalking
insects in the stirred up grass
against a backdrop
Last night, shooting stars.
Cats with their mouths
open to the universe and
great regions of autumn
bound up in slow wax.
Someplace familiar. This
drought is a telephone
for calling up the whole
circumference of what
happened after the…
the mayordomo parks his 58 Dodge pickup…
Waste island piled up process
waste haste erased face
eye sailing solution salination piled up…Continue
Jesus' Little Baby Sister
Did Jesus have a little baby sister?
Official history gives no clue
but women’s voices
sing of her to audiences that chuckle,
some in delight, others
because the idea makes them squirm:
I would thank her for the toothy insides
of ripe pomegranates
for the easy thumbing of their soft peels,
thank her for seventy-three degree weather—
for leaning oaks
glass bottom boats
GLORIA FUERTES: DECIR VERDADES
Your name means strong:
Strong as a woman living alone
writing poems in a big voice
A poet with a bricklayer's hands
and the face of her country
Summer reading from her book I-5, Mystery Bookstore, Westwood, CA, PM Press Photo
There is man-made importance
and there is the lunar egg.
And in that scarlet orb…
Award-winning Mexican poet and author of the bestselling novel Battles in the Desert died on January 26th. Mr. Pacheco was born June 30, 1939. Here are two of his poems, English translations by David Shook, offered thanks to …Continue
When I grew tired of living in the Body of Christ, Texas,
I moved myself to the Blood of Christ Mountains
Up in the northern part of New Mexico, where I got lost
In the ponderosa pines, trying to track the rainbow trout
Inside the Duomo, Milan
Marble pillars like giant Sequoias tower
to an impossibly high roof, spire after spire
Mr. Baraka lived from October 7th 1934 to January 9th 2014.
Slice Of Life
The train pulled in to Hartsville, S. C, and an
angel jumped out....
It was dark and he was scared
And the only sound was the…
The Lions of Dusk
The politicians call it
the international district.
The people who live here
speak its true name with pride.
The war zone, where
the veteran’s administration
The Voices of My Desert
Beginning this new trail, with the resonance
of shifting earth about me, I hear calls
distancing the crow voices of my childhood,
the wolf cry of my middle age. The sun
is an ancient symbol above me…Continue