Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

no possess by Donna Fleischer | Charter Oak Poets ii

no possess

brutish light
serrates morning
in the body

fissures open
to dense loss
the shatter
of unknowable
knowing crouches
in the hard white house

eyes float
in their window ponds
and forgotten

~ Donna Fleischer
from Charter Oak Poets ii

Carol Ann Duffy / The Sculpture of Language

Tate Liverpool\’s The Sculpture of Language

Frank Bidart / Star Dust

Star Dust

Above the dazzling city lies starless
night. Ruthless, you are pleased the price of one

is the other. That night

dense with date palms, crazy with the breath-
less aromas of fresh-cut earth,

black sky thronging with light so thick the fixed

unbruised stars bewildered
sight, I wanted you dazzled, wanted you drunk.

As we lie on our backs in close dark parallel furrows newly

dug, staring up at the consuming sky, light
falling does not stop at flesh: each thing hidden, buried

between us now burns and surrounds us,

visible, like breath in freezing air. What you ignore or refuse
or cannot bear.
What I hide that I ask, but

ask. The shimmering improvisations designed to save us

fire melts to law. I touched the hem of your garment. You opened
your side, feeding me briefly just enough to show me why I ask.

Melancholy, as if shorn, you cover as ever each glowing pyre

with dirt. In this light is our grave. Obdurate, you say: We
are darkness. We are the city

whose brightness blots the stars from night.

~ from Star Dust (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2005)

Dionne Brand / thirsty

Rickey Laurentiis / Final Poem for the Body — from Poets for Living Waters

Photograph by Rachel Eliza Griffiths

Final Poem for the Body

(New Orleans, LA)


There are two tragedies to life, Father.

The first: that we must be born.

We must be born to place with no

obligation to us. This earth

will just as soon fill a lake as it will

a city. If I know this theory of science,

it is because I know nothing else.

I have faith, you could say.

Father, not since that time years ago

have I felt so solid.

Not since that time I suspended

as a single cell have I loved every part of myself.

When mind and body was one. In a circle,

where there is no competition.

When mind didn’t tell body you are

a sickness: you exist to let others know

they are well. Deep inside my mother,

something moved to release me: I let out

the thunder-cry. That is the second tragedy:

we know we must be born. Continue reading

work break ~

a honey bee and I

love an apple

to its core

~ Donna Fleischer

– Mahmoud Darwish

If the catastrophe goes on, it has gone on/ dragonflies
will mime, mummify in despair until one grows
an aardvark’s tongue, licks its wings and legs free
to procreate new “lines of flight”/ and the egret
now a brown duck, will find a ship or a rock on which to dock
beguiled and perplexed like someone saved from drowning
though not from Poseidon’s beasts/ no use trying
to hose its feathers down, no down, no downtime, or time
for this one bird when sight is set on the future
of a thousand other birds/ don’t worry
they quickly learn from the floating drift-carcasses
and dolphin logs, and from those who have survived
who will perish in their intoxicated plumes like sleeping
under car hoods in a mechanic’s garage for 5000 miles
on end, oil change, and Gulf jumbo shrimp gulping/
If all is one, one is not all/ the earth always wins for losing.

– Fady Joudah

(posted by the poet Amy King
on Poets for Living Waters
May 28, 2010)