December 23, 2024 4:00 pm

I SIT AT MY DESK: Love Poem, by Kennet Rexroth

I SIT AT MY DESK “I sit at my desk. What can I write to you? Sick with love, I long to see you in the flesh. I can only write, “I love you. I love you. I love you. “ Love cuts through my heart And tears my vitals. Spasms of longing suffocate me And will not stop.” (Kennet …

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KIRCHBERG, AUSTRIA: Still one last dip in white, skiing until late spring

Near Kitzbuhel – in western Tyrol – the Austrian Alps offer you particular places, where to ski at 1800 meters high, in the woods of Ehrenbachhöhe, next to the old wooden barns. You should move in a worldly dimension reduced, going to Kirchberg, an alpine village that looks straight out of an old postcard. This small baroque jewel, above a …

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ARUNDHATHI SUBRAMANIAM, BREATH: Contemporary Indian Poetry

BREATH “Breath stranger, ancestor, friend that does not leave you anything but that, a brand of air on the skin. Advises that nothing there is respectable, in a set of family, when the doors of the cabinet are closed. Advises that this land wild and naked desire, is simply, or not so simply, body. “ (Arundhathi Subramanian)

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SLEEPING WITH ONE EYE OPEN: Mark Strand, Keeping things whole

KEEPING THINGS WHOLE “In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing. When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body’s been. We all have reasons for moving. The move to keep things whole. “ (Mark …

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YASUTA KEMARI, POEMS: In the fields of June, at the port of dreams

“In nostalgic fields I was standing these things made who were from distances received large.”       “June wheel wet the pickup truck stopped at lights it is attached to the future.”       “At the port of heaven the harbor water the port of the wind the port of dreams run off the seeds.” (Yasuta Kemari)

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