Last night’s PACKED #poetryparty house, panorama by Joshua Kristal.
This is me in all my post-performance glory!
I got both of my books signed, I got hugs from Tracy K. Smith AND Philip Levine, oh and I even got...
thorny fingers flick the flesh
and i have thought
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
and you’re there but i cannot touch you
i cannot touch you
“This — For the Moon — Yes?” by Carl Sandburg.
from Slabs of the Sunburnt West, published in 1922.
“The Sound of the Trees” by Robert Frost.
Mountain Interval, 1916.
Poem submission by alloveryourwood
Storming through these broken lands,
Biting off more than I can chew, oh hands,
For I have deciphered all I can, but I cannot foretell,
What is to come in a fractured dimension, locked in a body cell,
I am what I am, But what I am can never be,
My language is incapable of expressing the power within these cracks, I see,
Like the lone of survivor of my species,
On the brink of extinction,
With extinction on the brink of itself,
I once stormed through these broken lands,
Until the lands stormed and broke through me.