Peapods and Plain Rocks

Home by William Stafford Our father owned a star, and by its light we lived in father’s house and slept at night. The tragedy of l...

Protest by Ella Wheeler Wilcox To sin by silence, when we should protest, Makes cowards out of men. The human race Has climbed o...

Ars Poetica #100: I Believe   by Elizabeth Alexander   ...

Ice Would Suffice     ...

The Print the Whales Make You and I on the boat notice the print the whales leave, the  huge ring their diving draws for a time on the ...

Descending Theology:  Christ Human by Mary Karr Such a short voyage for a god, and you arrived in animal form so as not to scorch us wi...

  Advent Calendar, by Gjertrud Schnackenberg Bethlehem in Germany, Glitter on the sloping roofs, Breadcrumbs on the windowsills...

A Small Story     When Mrs. McCausland comes to mind she slips through a small gap in oblivion and walks down her front steps, in he...

Leave Me Hidden ...

CANDLES            by Constantine Cavafy, translated by David Coomler at https://hokku.wordpress.com/2016/04/06/the-days-dwindle-down-cavaf...

The Mystery, from Lyrics of Lowly Life, by Paul Lawrence Dunbar, 1896 ...

Praising Manners   We should ask God To help us toward manners. Inner gifts D...

A Reward             by Denise Levertov Tired and hungry, late in the day, impelled to leave the house and search for what might lift me...

Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear one more friend waking with a tumor, one more maniac with a perfect reason, often a sweetness ...

It’s said they planted trees by graves to soak up spirits of the dead through roots into the growing wood. The favorite in the burial yar...

  Fingerless Mitts On Bond USM         Gauge = 4 - 4.5 sts         KP - 2.5 or 3   Worsted-weight yarn                        ...

Wonder and Joy         by Robinson Jeffers The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure They are only foolish artificial things! Ca...

 Prairie Dawn by Willa Cather   A crimson fire that vanquishes the stars; A pungent odor from the dusty sage; A sudden stirring of the hud...

The Summer Ends by Wendell Berry The summer ends, and it is time To face another way. Our theme Reversed, we harvest the last row To st...

Solitude, by Alexander Pope Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air           ...

VII.  by Wendell Berry Again I resume the long lesson: how small a thing can be pleasing, how little in this hard world it takes to sa...

Excerpt from BODY AND SOUL    by Charles Wright   (for Coleman Hawkins) I used to think the power of words was inexhaustible, T...

  Night     by Louise Bogan The cold remote islands And the blue estuaries Where what breathes, breathes The restless wind of the inlet...

The war against euphemism and cliché matters not because we can guarantee that eliminating them will help us speak nothing but the truth b...

A Letter to Her Husband, Absent upon Public Employment by Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672) My head, my heart, mine eyes,...