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Kim Addonizio

New Year’s Day

The rain this morning falls   
on the last of the snow

and will wash it away. I can smell   
the grass again, and the torn leaves… 217 more words


What the Dead Fear, Kim Addonizio

What the Dead Fear, Kim Addonizio

On winter nights, the dead
see their photographs slipped
from the windows of wallets,
their letters stuffed in a box… 154 more words

Kim Addonizio

heraclitean :: kim addonizio

In goes the cafeteria worker in her hairnet.
In goes the philosophy teacher
explaining the theory of eternal
return, and Anton Stadler with his clarinet, 122 more words


Kim Addonizio

I don’t know why
the paper’s so important, or if anything
is even written there.
I don’t know where the dead go,

or why it’s good to forget them… 17 more words


Practising poetry

From a very early age, when I was really quite young, say about six, I made and wrote poems; to be fair most of my six-year-old attempts were as you would expect a six-year-old’s to be – but as I got older, in some ways my poetry and verse improved. 489 more words


picturing poetry

Today might be a good day to look at pictures. Here are two suggestions:

On PBS NewsHour, view a selection of photographs of poets by… 121 more words