March 22, 2022 – 10:59 pm
OscarDomesticated @OscDomesticated A note from #Mariupol : “Dima, Mom was killed on 9 March 2022. She died quickly. Then the house burnt down. Dima, I’m sorry I didn’t protect her. I buried Mom near the kindergarten” – and the scheme where exactly. It’s so horrible that tears are freezing in the eyes. 2:03 PM · […]
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February 28, 2022 – 7:22 pm
To go to Lvov (Jechać do Lwowa) To go to Lvov. Which station for Lvov, if not in a dream, at dawn, when dew gleams on a suitcase, when express trains and bullet trains are being born. To leave in haste for Lvov, night or day, in September or in March. But only if Lvov […]
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On Swimming The rivers of this country are sweet as a troubador’s song, the heavy sun wanders westward on yellow circus wagons. Little village churches hold a fabric of silence so fine and old that even a breath could tear it. I love to swim in the sea, which keeps talking to itself in the […]
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December 8, 2020 – 7:15 pm
Why Write Love Poetry in a Burning World To train myself to find, in the midst of hell what isn’t hell. The body, bald, cancerous, but still beautiful enough to imagine living the body washing the body replacing a loose front porch step the body chewing what it takes to keep a body going— […]
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April 17, 2014 – 12:46 pm
What a delight it has been to discover the poet Brigit Pegeen Kelly, author of three collections of poems and winner of the prestigious Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize in 1987. Her third collection The Orchard was nominated for both the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Circle Critics Award. Grateful thanks to the […]
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Try to Praise the Mutilated World Remember June’s long days And wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow The abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world – You watched the stylish yachts and ships; One of them had a long trip ahead of it, While salty oblivion […]
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Try to Praise the Mutilated World Try to praise the mutilated world Remember June’s long days And wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow The abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world – You watched the stylish yachts and ships; One of them had a long trip […]
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I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath moves through listen to this music Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz (1320-1389) from Love Poems from God, trans. Daniel Ladinsky, Penguin 2002 The Sufi poet Hafiz, in his poem above reminds me I am more than just a physical creature; the breath of the divine moves […]
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