Poem | The Mocking Bird
How is my desire lost? It pours out of my body.
How is my desire lost? It pours out of my body.
Some of us are lucky. We can swim in a lake. We can walk on a dirt road.
This week’s announcement that Jewish-American writer Louise Glück has received the Nobel Prize in Literature is cause for celebration during a decidedly difficult season. Glück, who is widely regarded as one of the most gifted lyrical poets of our time, is the first American woman poet ever to have received this honor.
The English word atonement sounds abstract / And kind of Latin, but really it’s just “at one.”
Yesterday someone robbed me, and today, / an afternoon of rain brings a double rainbow.
I’ve written the soup, the parting of the sea, the savage plagues and the candles
There is another version of the story in which we survive nothing by accident.
“Was that your friend Bill Shakespeare?” my youngest son, Alex, then six, asks after my husband, Steve, hangs up the phone.
If that seems like a crazy question from a child, it was par for the course in my household, because it was words that wooed me, words that won me, and words that keep us – the entire family – in thrall.
From the very beginning, in fact.
“Turn off your lights! / Turn them off! / Heh heh heh,” the radio coughs. / The Olga Coal Company presents