by Bernadette Mayer
a poem is like a palm
in that it is sap evaporating
like a horse in a corral
running frenetically to the road when
a car approaches like a bird
who comes to the feeder despite
the hot sweet smoke, should we end today?
if you end one thing, you might end
another like the winter or the life
of a traitor humming like a cloud
in the clear blue sky’s use
as a plateau to warmer, itchy weather
when we can swim in the creek
beyond the field behind the hay’s evaporator, amen.
simondrax replied to your photo
See, that’s what the polka track sounds like this morning. Cue nightmare. Music for dead children in a boat to nowhere.
@ jprofessor It is an option under “community” when you click customize on your dashboard.
The Saturday before Palm Sunday is known as Lazarus Saturday, in observance of the resurrection of Lazarus of Bethany, a miracle performed by Christ four days after Lazarus died.
Me too. Me too.
by Robert Frost
They leave us so to the way we took,As two in whom them were proved mistaken,That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,With michievous, vagrant, seraphic look,And try if we cannot feel forsaken.