Ode to the Whitman Line “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” by Kimiko Hahn
Ode to the Whitman Line "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" I cannot consider scent without you, I cannotthink that color so gay, so Japanese, so vernal without you; not assassination or any death… Continue Reading
“When I Am Among The Trees” by Mary Oliver
When I Am Among The Trees When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I… Continue Reading
“Poem for Haruko” by June Jordan
Poem for Haruko I never thought I’d keep a record of my pain or happiness like candles lighting the entire soft lace of the air around the full length of your hair/a shower organized by… Continue Reading
“Beyond Santiago” by David Whyte
Beyond Santiago Death is so simple,one momentyou are aliveand then,you are not. And that fearyou carry with youmight beequally as simple too, that you’llnever havethe timeto accomplishwhat you wish. But stopa moment now,before the waybeyond,and… Continue Reading
“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe
Alone From childhood’s hour I have not beenAs others were—I have not seenAs others saw—I could not bringMy passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart… Continue Reading
“Greensickness” by Laurel Chen
Greensickness after Gwendolyn Brooks My wild grief didn’t know where to end. Everywhere I looked: a field alive and unburied. Whole swaths of green swallowed the light. All around me, the field was growing. I… Continue Reading
“The Monks and the Giant Boulder” a classic Buddhist parable from Jack Kornfield
The Monks and the Boulder An old monk and his two disciples were walking through a field when they came across a giant boulder. The old monk asked the two disciples, “Is this boulder heavy?”… Continue Reading
“The Incidence of Oxymorons” by Brian Bilston
The Incidence of Oxymorons Alone together, for once, I told her how I thought that — in my unbiased opinion — the incidence of oxymorons in the English language had been growing smaller. That’s old… Continue Reading
“Praying” by Mary Oliver
Praying If doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to… Continue Reading
“Never Still” by Patti Smith
Never Still Travel is its own book.Images we have captured in film, in memory, form its leaves.That when turned, reveal a story of a life.We long to add new pages.We long to explore.We long for… Continue Reading