Tag Archives: poem

Weird

“She said But you’re weird! as if / to say a repetition of it would / impel me to remember / it was not to be treated as a compliment, / an identity, a friend.” A poem for National Poetry Month. Continue reading

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Table 2 (poem)

“…Sustained / by statisticians, I am a maker / of passionless tables that summarize / in numbers the reasoned philosophy / of this well-ordered State’s philosopher-kings.” A poem for National Poetry Month.

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“Totally like whatever, you know?” by Taylor Mali

“Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker / it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY. / You have to speak with it, too.” A poem by Taylor Mali for National Poetry Month.

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Vashti Speaks for Herself

“He said that? you heard him? The bastard! / I used to love him. Some ways I still do… / but honey, don’t believe all you hear. / He can put it on Larry King Live, / he can write it up in the Bible / for every preacher to preach, / it’ll still be a goddamn lie….” A poem for National Poetry Month.

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Mielikki

“When they told me who to put on the throne / I said, no, I will not be ruled. / The gods they showed me were tyrants
who displeased me with their judgments, / their injustice, yes, their cruelty.” — A poem for National Poetry Month.

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“Anchorage Oil Town Villanelle” published in Cirque

Cirque is a literary journal for the North Pacific Rim edited by Anchorage poet Mike Burwell. My poem “Anchorage Oil Town Villanelle” is published in the Summer Solstice 2010 issue, which came out yesterday.

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Metsän henki

“She stands outside & in me, / a flicker beckoning / at the inmost limit of vision / where the blind spot is insufficiency / of self-knowing.” A poem in celebration of National Poetry Month.

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You are old, Father William: Two renditions

“You are old, Father William”, the young man said, / And your hair has become very white; / And yet you incessantly stand on your head — Do you think, at your age, it is right?” In celebration of National Poetry Month.

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“Disabled” by Wilfred Owen

‘He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, / And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, / Legless, sewn short at elbow….” In celebration of National Poetry Month.

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“Emergency Haying” by Hayden Carruth

‘And I stand up high / on the wagon tongue in my whole bones to say // woe to you, watch out / you sons of bitches who would drive men and women / to the fields where they can only die.’ In celebration of National Poetry Month.

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