Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Soledad Mexicana

Y soy un extraño sin felicidad
caminando las calles de México
Mis amigos, se me han muerto,
mis amantes desaparecieron,
mis putas fueron proscriptas,
mi cama apedreada y sacudida
por los terremotos y no tengo
hierba santa para volarme a la luz
de las velas

Monday, October 20, 2014

Openness — Love

Free flowing, like a clear mountain stream,
tumbling down unobstructed.
Open wide, like the arms of a tree,
to the heavens above.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Rain Dance

It's nice to enjoy
What you are doing for a chance,
My very own new rain dance.

Bright lightning night.
Rolling thunder now.
Knowing my own answers, somehow.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Be not Defeated by the Rain

Be not defeated by the rain, Nor let the wind prove your better.
Succumb not to the snows of winter. Nor be bested by the heat of summer.

Be strong in body. Unfettered by desire. Not enticed to anger. Cultivate a quiet joy.
Count yourself last in everything. Put others before you.
Watch well and listen closely. Hold the learned lessons dear.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

2014 National Book Award Poetry Finalists Announced

The shortlists for the National Book Awards were announced today and the finalists for the poetry award are: Louise Glück; Fanny Howe; Maureen N. McLane; Fred Moten and; Claudia Rankine. Robert Polito, President of the Poetry Foundation, heads a panel of five judges who will decide this year's honoree.

Library Walk: The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail

"Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am." So speaks the titular character in Robert Edwin Lee and Jerome Lawrence's The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail.

The two-act play debuted at their alma mater during the height of the Viet Nam War in 1969 and was one of the most popular college productions of the time appearing on campuses coast-to-coast.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Monday, October 13, 2014

Harvest Time

Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain,
Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain,

Wearied of pleasuring weeks away,
Summer is lying asleep today —