April's poetry posting has become a habit a bit hard to break. Here's a short one by Wendy Videlock, "There's Nothing More"
There's nothing more
the brown palm
of the curved
hand of the right
A friend recently send me a couple of back issues of Poetry Journal and that poem was in it. Short and sweet, punny how sweet. [Sorry the picture is mangoes and not plums.]
There was also an essay about the Canadian poet Daryl Hine who also spent a period of his life in the US as editor of Poetry Journal. This is the first stanza of his poem "Don Juan in Amsterdam"
This also is a place which love is known in,
The hollow land beneath a lifeless sea
Remote from whatever region he was born in,
How far it is impossible to say.
The brackish water as I crossed
A bridge was delicately created
And stained and stale, like love-disordered linen.
I'm glad he gave the place in the title, it makes references here clear, otherwise I wouldn't be sure what he was talking about or where he was. For me it's important to know such things. It's a wonderful thing to go to the mailbox and come back with a hand full of poetry and thoughts about poetry.
, Ryan Quinn Flanagan writes - *Good Teeth* I had this one with good teeth tell me that all my isolation did not make me an artist, it made me crazy, and with time I can see that sh...
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