Tag Archives: American Poets

trembling with the same cicada sound

Here in the Northeastern U.S. we are experiencing the emergence of a brood of 17-year cicadas. Sitting in my garden listening to the noisy insects, I was reminded of this very short piece by the late American poet W.S. Merwin: … Continue reading

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Dear Tourists

DEAR TOURISTS Johannes Göransson Dear Tourists, You can grope for moist souvenirs in the basement, but you’ll need patience because nobody down there will warn you about the floor. In the street you’ll find squirrels; on my scalp, bumps. If you … Continue reading

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Devotion is full of arrows

ON KINGDOMS Joanna Klink Who is ever at home in oneself. Land without mercy. Interstates set flickering by night. When I speak to you I can feel a storm falling blackly to the roads, the pelting rains the instant they … Continue reading

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Denial Is A Cliff

Denial is a Cliff We Are Driven Over Joy Priest I want to believe Don West when he writes: none of mineever made their living by driving slaves. But in my grandfather’s mouth that utterance would’ve taken on another meaning: In … Continue reading

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