I am outside. You are inside. I have come here to let you all out. More at https://www.facebook.com/heath.brougher.
The post Why I’m Here | Heath Brougher appeared first on Best Poetry Online.
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I am outside. You are inside. I have come here to let you all out. More at https://www.facebook.com/heath.brougher.
The post Why I’m Here | Heath Brougher appeared first on Best Poetry Online.
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Author: Best Poetry Online
Retired now, he’s half St. Francis every season of the year, putting out sunflower seed and safflower seed for bickering cardinals and jays, niger seed for the goldfinch mob, millet for the different sparrows, feeds feral cats at an early hour that eat and leave before the birds drop down. He and his wife go…
Richard Wilbur gave a splendid reading at the Unterberg Poetry Center of the 92nd Street Y last night. After a knockout selection of poems new and old, he capped the evening with a bit from his forthcoming translation of Corneille’s The Liar, which will be out in August in a volume that also includes his new translation…
Surf And Turf “I want the best of all possible worlds For myself!” — isn’t that what we’re Saying when we order Surf And Turf? “Yes I want a lobster tail but that’s hardly The whole of my desires and my needs. I hanker as well after a small piece of high grade Meat,…
The vast bulk of the Journal of Poetics Research number FIVE, editerd by the incomparable John Tranter, is now available free on the internet at poeticsresearch.com featuring: Dozens of articles and essays and book reviews, such as [partial list] Robert Wood: an autobiography I was not exposed to a wide range of poetry. § Chris Stroffolino:…
The Grande Dame And I thought, clarity. I thought mark and force, I thought the green canopy. I thought you, out there pushing against the door- knobs as if that could make them turn, slamming your body against walls as if they would give in to your body, the one giving like the…
I can still see his in my mind. Leather boots, dark like night, shining like mirrors. I’d never seen such shoes. In the tiny town of Pavlovo, Czechoslovakia, where I grew up, everyone had a farm, so boots were worn. But not shiny boots, not like these. Shooting up and out the tops of his…