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poetry

Reading Lists

(x = space)

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Reading Lists

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Adrienne Rich

Wrote about Aunt Jennifer’s

Rings and tigers on screens

And diving into a wreck

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These were the poems

We interns were assigned

To read and teach,

And that was all right

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But reading on one’s own

With no one’s rubric but

One’s own

Is so much better;

I’m sure we were supposed

To instill some kind of

Critical process regarding

Life and reading in it

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But I’m not sure

How well that worked,

What kind of processes

We might have instilled,

What seeds grown,

What personal

Allegiances to one’s own

Mind and heart

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So was a new generation of

New readers of poetry

Begun?  Has it flourished?

Are they among the ones who

Turn to poetry when there’s

A tragedy?

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(read up how we

took to verse after the

Towers fell)

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I like Rich, though that

Would not be enough

In that we were serving

A learning process

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It was a small, state school;

I never heard from anyone

Again, though nothing and

No one is due me

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A state away and many

Years, I wish us well

And to take up small books

Of miracles from time to time;

I do this, Mary Oliver’s

Most recently

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C L Couch

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Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash

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Here’s News (and a Haibun)

Here’s News (and a Haibun)

 

(1)

 

Here are three news leads from The Guardian:

The United Nations has for the first time signalled its “human rights obligation” over the deadly cholera outbreak in Haiti that has claimed the lives of at least 30,000 people.

‘It’s only working for the white kids’: American soccer’s diversity problem [headline]

Yesterday, a report came out that said more than 1,000 migrants and refugees have died just in the last week while crossing the Mediterranean.

 

(2)

 

Everyone on all sides of things is falling down.  UN peacekeeping.  Soccer, the world’s sport.  Migrants we don’t count who die.  Doesn’t help my own precarious feelings about stability or sanity in the world.  Doesn’t help the fragility in me or mine.  On this side of apocalypse (only frightening for some), what might we save?  In order to retain poetics, I’ve refrained from news of politics today.  I doubt anymore the answer’s there.

 

(3)

 

Black box of the plane

Black box of refugee’s boat

Black box of sea’s depths

Psalm 32

Psalm 32

a song when we are done

 

Lord, I’ve lost it all

Age and youth

Health and wealth

Whatever I possessed

Is no longer in my

Hands

 

I wagered life

And sometimes won

Gained much, gave it away

Squandered some

As we are likely to do

 

Here I am, and there

You are

We draw closer all the

Time

With all that

I no longer have

 

Do you still love me,

Lord?

The mystics’ reply is

Yes, always

Yes from the Lord

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