Dorianne Laux, Antilamentation
Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering any of it.
Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
Dorianne Laux, an extract from her poem, Antilamentation .
It has been a truly insane week ... involving 5 intense hours with a camera crew filming me, a corporate photo-shoot and life.
Blog post to follow soon.
Love After Love, Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Michael Schiller, Poet
I interviewed Michael Schiller over in my Interview section way back when ...
Tonight he announced that his book, Something in Another City, is available on iPad and iPhone.
Check it out.
Billy Collins: Everyday moments, caught in time
I loved this. I had to share it.
'It Rained So Hard', Karen Bowles
It rained so hard
I was carrying around
word droplets in my shoes,
shaking them from my hair
and jacket,
watching them
gather in
shallow pools
of speech
all around my feet.
I can dip my toe
and come back
with a sentence
sliding down my
skin
with moisturizing
conversation.
If I open my mouth
to the sky
and stretch my wings,
hands upraised,
I will gather the
letters into a
little pile
and knit them into
a distinctive hat
you can wear
in the falling
words
to remind you
I am a sound upon
your lips
and a full-length novel
in your heart
I found this exquisite poem, by Karen Bowles, and just had to share. There is more coming but for the moment, I’m letting the poem stand mostly on its own.
For those who wish to know more, the poem comes from the website Luciole Press ...La Luciole is French for “The Firefly.”
“This multi-purpose arts publication, with a blog which is updated daily, is an effort to bring light and dark together in the same field. It seeks to cover many subjects, focusing especially on anything related to the arts, poetry, travel, commentary, ideas, and celebration of all cultures.