More on: poetry

On lines from “In Memory of the Spanish Poet Federico Garcia Lorca” by Thomas Merton Where the white bridge rears up its stamping arches Proud as a colt across the clatter of the shallow river, The sharp guitars Have never forgotten your name. I stood up to my knees in the April river and the…

The explosives belt was ticking On his terrified body, And from the wells of his eyes screwed into him That very morning there dripped Farewell tears for Isaac. Soon there are the mountain, altar And cotton-wool faces of the angels. Luckily, a minute before the blast God reminded him there is A God. Translated by…

For Benny Efrat No one expected the horses to remember the Flood. Time’s nail had rusted in the horseshoe when God Let the wet shout go into the world. Since then warriors raced upon their backs, Nations wandered And the wind’s whip snapped a gallop in their legs. I therefore ask my friends in the…

I understand the problem. You make A metaphor to try to heal Something. At its heart is a wound You put there. Write A postcard, send it off—now Believe it will arrive A whole planet away, A lifetime, into another’s hands. Try Not thinking what might go wrong.

Here, in the face of the made, Abandon me. In the dark Where firelight licks Stone walls, begin. I draw My spear and take most Careful aim. Draw the buck The spear is looking for. What if it’s all In my head? I can carry The whole mountain there, The striped cat stalking My shadow.…

His voice nearly gone _________________(add enough water and pigment thins) she’s listening to the plainsong of doves in the garden, ______________________their__ you__ you __you calling her slowly back to herself until she’s jarred by laughter coming from ______________________________who is it below her window facing the avenue du Général Baron Robert? Footsteps. Three knocks at the…

The night of the Perseid shower, thick fog descended but I would not be denied. I had put the children to bed, knelt with them, and later in the quiet kitchen as tall red candles burned on the table between us, I’d listened to my wife’s sweet imprecations, her entreaties to see a physician. But…

from the Colloquy of Aelfric (955–c. 1010) i. Fisherman Master: Would you catch a whale? Fisherman: No. Master: Why? Fisherman: Because it is a dangerous thing to catch a whale. How do you catch a whale? No net you could knit is large enough to contain it, no hook you fashion strong enough to tug…

Whether we have slept through Matins’ dream offices or lain awake, we rise to a morning bell we do not call Lauds, and not calling it ablution, we, for the day’s offices, flush dust and dead skin from our many creases. On the highway and through the parking garage to a computer pinging with the…

In the garden of the Hesperides, where the golden apples grew, Orpheus caressed strings that out-sang the sirens, charmed hell, and softened the heart of Death. The hills crept close to listen, and marvelous trees, full of dumbstruck birds, bent toward him. —————The great crowd too bent forward, tense. Keepers stabbed torches into the starved…