Tag Archives: Poetry

When Great Trees Fall

Posted on December 4, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

Maya Angelou wrote the poem “When Great Trees Fall” when James Baldwin died in December of 1987, and read the poem at his funeral… “When Great Trees Fall” by Maya Angelou When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, … Continue reading →

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What Kind of Times Are These

Posted on November 15, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

“What Kind of Times Are These” by Adrienne Rich There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared … Continue reading →

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Postcard from a volcano

Posted on November 11, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

“A Postcard from the Volcano” by Wallace Stevens Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grapes Made sharp air sharper by their … Continue reading →

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To Any Reader

Posted on November 3, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

A Child’s Garden of Verse, Robert Louis Stevenson, illustrations by Brian Wildsmith  

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October : The rain falls like dirty string

Posted on October 28, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

Tom Clark October  

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Literature Is An Invention

Posted on September 13, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

Adagia Sara Nicholson Literature is an invention; it was Written by men to praise war. Economy is tragic; the economy Comedy. What the heart feigns The mind rehearses, circles A river on the map, as if to say “Voilà! Now the … Continue reading →

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September 1, 1939

Posted on September 1, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

September 1, 1939 W.H. Auden I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands … Continue reading →

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NYC: Poetry on the Street

Posted on August 30, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

h/t Nitzan Mintz  

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August, you’re just an erotic hallucination

Posted on August 14, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

“Here in the electric dusk your naked lover tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth. It’s beautiful Susan, her hair sticky with gin, Our Lady of Wet Glass-Rings on the Album Cover, streaming with hatred … Continue reading →

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The summer night is like a perfection of thought

Posted on August 4, 2019 by Brian D. Butler

The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm BY WALLACE STEVENS The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet … Continue reading →

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