Monthly Archives: April 2018

Let Poetry Speak It – Grief but Also Happiness -For My Friends Laura and Walt – Their Son Killed in an Accident

Meals of Grief & Happiness 1 I believe in the tears of an elephant. How they stamp the ground and forget they are in musth— panting—and cinnamon shrubs or piles of sugarcane can’t tempt them to stop their cycle of grief. I believe I the broken heart of an elephant. When a companion dies, I […]

Begin Afresh, Afresh! Poems of Spring by Larkin and Limón

  Instructions on Not Giving Up More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees that really gets to me. When all the shock of […]

Saved by Poetry – Sam Hamill, Poet, Editor, Publisher (1943-April 14th, 2018)

Blasphemy For Sam Hamill Let the blasphemy be spoken: poetry can save us, not the way a fisherman pulls the drowning swimmer into his boat, not the way Jesus, between screams, promised life everlasting to the thief crucified beside him on the hill, but salvation nevertheless. Somewhere a convict sobs into a book of poems […]

Catching Fire -Writing En Plain Air – An Invite to Richard’s October Retreat in Italy 2018

RECOVERING WORDS IN ITALY  A Generative Poetry Writing Retreat with Richard Osler – experienced poetry facilitator and author of Hyaena Season “Catching Fire – Writing En Plein Air” I write from habit, not because I am on fire. — Vittoria Colonna (1492 – 1547) La Romita School of Art Terni, Umbria, Italy 10 Days Oct. […]

Poetic Healing – Poems of Grief and Healing in the Aftermath of the Humboldt Broncos’ Tragedy

Grief Trying to remember you is like carrying water in my hands a long distance across sand. Somewhere people are waiting. They have drunk nothing for days. Your name was the food I lived on; now my mouth is full of dirt and ash. To say your name was to be surrounded by feathers and […]

Where Do Poems Come From? Prado and Whipple Respond!

Human Rights I know God lives in me as in no other house. I am his countryside, His alchemical vessel, and, to his joy, His two eyes. But this handwriting is mine. Adelia Prado (1935 – ) trans. by Ellen Dore Watson from Ex-Voto, Tupelo Press, 2013 My Art My art is not the least […]