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Old woman,
I see your tapestries everywhere –
branches, railings, higher corners –
and there you are, waiting –
mending and tending – waiting,
like me, for something to come
(innocent and sustaining) –
meanwhile mending and tending,
spining out what I can
from what I have,
what I am.

Kathryn Hinds
Candle, Thread, & Flute (2013)

               for James Lee Jobe

Remember when we used to be the river?
It occurs to me that we are time.
Look what a fantastic place love finds
When we open ourselves above these empires
Of dust that once were sleep or weapons,
Ocean after ocean that we ran toward.

How could we know the way?
Look at the stars. What are they doing?
Our children rushing past in an insomnia
Our soul demands, so that we never lose
Our place in this river.  And then, suddenly,
They are gone. So much music they are.

We remain the river. Kind of  an ivory labyrinth
Borges spoke of when he was a river.
The images continue to occupy us
Even as we move through the great
Corridors of the heart. We find ourselves
Still breathing. We become an epitaph.

D.R. Wagner

Medusa’s Kitchen
(more poems by D.R. Wagner)

Screen Shot 2017-04-22 at 8.04.18 PM

Reach for a book

to tickle your fancy —

reach for a book

to make you feel dancey.

Reach for a book

when you want to feel friendly —

reach for a book

that’s happy-ever-end-y.

Eve Merriam

magical-book_22715518-226x300

(in Mary Perrotta Rich, Ed. Book Poems: Poems from National Children’s Book Week, 1959–1998. New York: Children’s Book Council)

(spotted in Mr. Mark Pollock and Mrs. Medora Sobottka’s kindergarten classroom
at Fred T. Korematsu Elementary School, Davis, CA)

The Soul has Bandaged moments –
When too appalled to stir –
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her –

Salute her, with long fingers –
Caress her freezing hair –
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover – hovered – o’er –
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme – so – fair –

The soul has moments of escape –
When bursting all the doors –
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee – delirious borne –
Long Dungeoned from his Rose –
Touch Liberty – then know no more –
But Noon, and Paradise 

The Soul’s retaken moments –
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue –

Emily Dickinson
(stanzas 3 & 4 appear
in a postcard from the San José Museum of Art)

You have been invited to meet
The Friend.

No one can resist a Divine Invitation.

That narrows down all our choices
to just two:

we can come to God
dressed for Dancing

or

be carried on a stretcher
to God’s Ward.

Hafiz
trans. Daniel Ladinsky

HafizDancing

THE POETRY PLACE

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the…

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Dante Said

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