Happy Tuesday, friends! Coming to you late, but here is today’s Poem of the Day: “What’s Left Behind After a Hawk Has Seized a Smaller Bird Midair” by Justin Phillip Reed. Enjoy!… Read More Poem of the Day: Justin Phillip Reed
AT NORTH FARM Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night, Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents, through narrow passes. But will he know where to find you, Recognize you when he sees you, Give you the thing he has for you? Hardly anything grows here,… Read More Poem of the Day: John Ashbery
—after Philip Larkin TO BRING THE HORSE HOME Is all I’ve wanted past wanting since I was six and delirious with fever, an infinitive forged from a night when giant ladybugs with toothpick antennae patrolled my wicker nightstand. Yes, I’ve been with horses since, travelled illegally with them in trailers, known certain… Read More Poem of the Day: Julie Bruck
PURSUIT —for Arctic Explorer Donald B. MacMillan Provincetown, September All summer, town kids pose at the edge of the pier named after you and leap. I’ve just flown home from Baffin, Mac. A month of spotting polar bears, lecturing on tundra as raw wind shrugged us off, then winter chased us down the… Read More Poem of the Day: Elizabeth Bradfield
SELF-PORTRAIT I did not want my body Spackled in the world’s Black beads and broke Diamonds. What the world Wanted, I did not. Of the things It wanted. The body of Sunday Morning, the warm wine and The blood. The dripping fox Furs dragged through the black New York snow—the parked car, the… Read More Poem of the Day: Cynthia Cruz
TROMBONE There were carols on the kitchen radio, a late cold night, entering the room while straightening the blistered Navajo rug, I remembered suddenly what the first eight notes of hark, the herald angels sing felt like vibrating through my body that first time— I was eleven and unprepared, I remembered when I… Read More Poem of the Day: Norman Dubie
HOTEL BERLIN In the rooms of a rundown palace You said, Ruined. You said, Princess. You said nothing to me For three long weeks. The color of that room Is eel-black. When I was a girl and still German, I stood alone At the end of the sea. You may have loved me… Read More Poem of the Day: Cynthia Cruz
