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 Dougie M.K.
This is the poem that writes itself
In the lives of the unfortunate.
That records the lives of the rich
Because they understand not the truth
Nor the life that they lead.
And when the poem is complete,
It binds itself in the sadness of its accomplishment.
This is the poem that tells the story of the truly accomplished
Because, in the end, the unfortunate pull ahead of the wealthy.
For the unfortunate know the world and its workings,
While the wealthy know only their wealth.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.