Archive for the ‘ Uncategorized ’ Category

Two essays by Amy King | Jacket2

from Poets don’t owe us: “Burn it down” and making way —

I do not pick up a Cesar Vallejo poem and decide it isn’t meaningful because it never made it to whatever the hottest venue was in Paris in his last years. Vallejo had escaped government persecution in Peru, was occasionally destitute, often depressed, and died in Paris in poverty. For lack of publication in the French equivalent of Poetry or the Paris Review, his work should not be meaningful? Should not resonate in some way today? For lack of appointments in the low residency MFA program of the Sorbonne his poems might be of no value?  – Amy King

 

Source: Two essays | Jacket2

brass bell: a haiku journal

al fresco —
fly on the menu
be careful

Donna Fleischer

 

curated by Zee Zahava

Source: brass bell: a haiku journal

Alan Summers – Haiku Poet Interviews

 

Alan Summers (St Ives Cornwall)

Source: Alan Summers – Haiku Poet Interviews

Alan’s Haiku Journey – YouTube

 

Stripping and Putting On by May Swenson | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Stripping and Putting On

by May Swenson

I always felt like a bird blown through the world.
I never felt like a tree.

I never wanted a patch of this earth to stand in,
that would stick to me.

I wanted to move by whatever throb my muscles
sent to me.

I never cared for cars, that crawled on land or
air or sea.

If I rode, I’d rather another animal: horse, camel,
or shrewd donkey.

Never needed a nest, unless for the night, or when
winter overtook me.

Never wanted an extra skin between mine and the sun,
for vanity or modesty.

Would rather not have parents, had no yen for a child,
and never felt brotherly.

But I’d borrow or lend love of friend. Let friend be
not stronger or weaker than me.

Never hankered for Heaven, or shield from a Hell,
or played with the puppets Devil and Deity.

I never felt proud as one of the crowd under
the flag of a country.

Or felt that my genes were worth more or less than beans,
by accident of ancestry.

Never wished to buy or sell. I would just as well
not touch money.

Never wanted to own a thing that wasn’t I born with.
Or to act by a fact not discovered by me.

I always felt like a bird blown through the world.
But I would like to lay

the egg of a world in a nest of calm beyond
this world’s storm and decay.

I would like to own such wings as light speeds on,
far from this globule of night and day.

I would like to be able to put on, like clothes,
the bodies of all those

creatures and things hatched under the wings
of that world.

“Stripping and Putting On” by May Swenson, from Nature: Poems Old and New. © Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000.

Source: Stripping and Putting On by May Swenson | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

‘We Were ACT UP’: New Book Celebrates Unsung Heroes of AIDS Crisis

Sarah Schulman’s Let the Record Show is a meticulously crafted history of the activist movement that rose out of the AIDS epidemic.

Source: ‘We Were ACT UP’: New Book Celebrates Unsung Heroes of AIDS Crisis

Red-winged Blackbird – YouTube

Big thanks to John L. Stanizzi, poet and teacher!

Tomorrow she would be in America. – sacrificezone

Over forty years ago

a tense, cunningly moving tale by the Hunga-

Then he moved on and I went close behind.

Interviewers: What drew a woman from Ohio

to study in Tübingen? American Readers

with this issue former subscribers to Marxist Perspectives

The shadow of the coup continues to hover over Spain

In the ordinary way of summer

girls were still singing

like a saguaro cactus from which any desert wayfarer can draw

 

rest @ https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54240/not-a-cage

Source: Tomorrow she would be in America. – sacrificezone

Daily Haiku: April 25, 2021 | Charlotte Digregorio’s Writer’s Blog

scent of pine
I pour the river
from my boots
by Glenn G. Coats (USA), Author
Where the Tide Meets the Stream

Source: Daily Haiku: April 25, 2021 | Charlotte Digregorio’s Writer’s Blog

brass bell: a haiku journal: edible haiku

root cellar
the darkness lit
by jelly jars

Debbie Strange

Source: brass bell: a haiku journal: edible haiku