14 Mar: "Hoop Snake" by Rebecca Wee

Hoop Snake (by Rebecca Wee) 

the second time we met
he told me about the hoop snake

(temporal, exquisite,
a godless man

so I listened)

we weren't sure though
if it could be true

a snake that takes its tail in its mouth
then rolls through the world

but there are reasons to believe in god
and this seems a good one

we brought wine to the porch, spoke
of piety, marriage,

devotion assumed for reasons
that could not sustain it

while lightning took apart the sky
the fields leapt up the stream's

muddy lustre its sinuous length
liminal, lush, the grass black

the unheard melodies and those that catch
the leaves beginning to fret

I don't remember now what he said his eyes
revising that dark

after he left I walked through the grass the rain
asked how do things work?

we are after something miraculous

we open our mouths we believe
we turn
at times

we gather speed

13 Mar: "Noah / Ham: Fathers of the Year" by Douglas Kearney

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/detail/56654

I recommend listening to the author read it. Press the play button on the link above

12 Mar: "Girl-Watching" by Dan Brown

Girl-Watching

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BY DAN BROWN

In the years I’ve been at this

(Lots, not to be precise)

You’d think that once or twice

At least I would have seen

Some anomalies. I mean

Some major ones. As in

Not feet but little wheels,

Or crests like cockatiels’.

Where are they keeping the girls

With a chrome exterior,

Or an extra derriere?

Apparently nowhere.

Assuming my sample’s valid,

The pool is limited 

To the standard types I’ve tallied;

Such variance as there is

In the usual congeries

Of   physiognomies —

And yet enough of   it 

To be worth the looking at. 

The walking by, for that,

Of   the same girl over and over

Would be no cross to bear

If   it were that one there.

11 Mar: "i will wade out..." by ee cummings

i will wade out

                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

10 Mar: "how many moment must..." by ee cummings

how many moments must(amazing each

how many centuries)these more than eyes

restroll and stroll some never deepening beach

locked in foreverish time’s tide at poise,

love alone understands:only for whom

i’ll keep my tryst until that tide shall turn;

and from all selfsubtracting hugely doom

treasures of reeking innocence are born.

Then, with not credible the anywhere

eclipsing of a spirit’s ignorance

by every wisdom knowledge fears to dare,

how the(myself’s own self who’s)child will dance!

and when he’s plucked such mysteries as men

do not conceive–let ocean grow again

9 Mar: "I Know Not Why" by Morris Rosenfield

I Know Not Why

I lift mine eyes against the sky,
The clouds are weeping, so am I;
I lift mine eyes again on high,
The sun is smiling, so am I.
Why do I smile? Why do I weep?
I do not know; it lies too deep.

I hear the winds of autumn sigh,
They break my heart, they make me cry;
I hear the birds of lovely spring,
My hopes revive, I help them sing.
Why do I sing? Why do I cry?
It lies so deep, I know not why. 

Morris Rosenfeld

8 Mar: "O Me! O Life!" by Walt Whitman

O Me! O Life!

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BY WALT WHITMAN

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.





Play the video to hear Robin Williams read it for you.

7 Mar:"Red Beans"

Red Beans

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BY VICTOR HERNÁNDEZ CRUZ

Next  to white rice

it looks like coral

sitting next to snow

Hills of starch

border

The burnt sienna

of irony

Azusenas being chased by

the terra cotta feathers

of a rooster

There is a lava flow

through the smoking

white mounds

India red

spills on ivory

Ochre cannon balls

falling

next to blanc pebbles

Red beans and milk

make burgundy wine

Violet pouring

from the eggshell

tinge of the plate.

6 Mar: "if your complexion is a mess"

[if your complexion is a mess]

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BY HARRYETTE MULLEN

if your complexion is a mess 

our elixir spells skin success 

you’ll have appeal bewitch be adored 

hechizando con crema dermoblanqueadora 

what we sell is enlightenment 

nothing less than beauty itself 

since when can be seen in the dark 

what shines hidden in dirt 

double dutch darky 

take kisses back to Africa 

they dipped you in a vat 

at the wacky chocolate factory 

color we’ve got in spades 

melanin gives perpetual shade 

though rhythm’s no answer to cancer 

pancakes pale and butter can get rancid

5 Mar: "The Hand" by Mary Ruefle

The Hand

Mary Ruefle, 1952

The teacher asks a question.
You know the answer, you suspect
you are the only one in the classroom 
who knows the answer, because the person
in question is yourself, and on that 
you are the greatest living authority,
but you don’t raise your hand.
You raise the top of your desk
and take out an apple.
You look out the window.
You don’t raise your hand and there is
some essential beauty in your fingers,
which aren’t even drumming, but lie 
flat and peaceful.
The teacher repeats the question. 
Outside the window, on an overhanging branch,
a robin is ruffling its feathers
and spring is in the air.