William Stafford the Novelist (not the Poet)
Twenty years. That was his best estimate. Twenty years stranded on the tiny island. At least!
He had changed – obviously, he was older. Hairier too. 381 more words
15 hours, 41 minutes ago
Words for the Year
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That’s why we wake
and look out — no guarantees… 103 more words
1 week ago
R. L. Martinez
Traveling Through the Dark by William Stafford
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: 131 more words
1 week, 1 day ago
Live & Learn
Zeke nestles up tight, his back to my chest, resting his nose on his paws. My arm wraps around his sternum, his heart beats on my finger tips, low and slow. 282 more words
1 week, 2 days ago
The Vale of Soul-Making
Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing
The light along the hills in the morning
comes down slowly, naming the trees
white, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate. 109 more words
1 week, 4 days ago
“Now then, what seems to be the problem?” The old woman gestured to a stool, her hand a bunch of twigs held together by knotty veins. 463 more words
Many of us don’t need a month dedicated to poetry to remind us to appreciate it. But if you can’t remember the last time you read a poem, let alone tried your hand at writing one, you’re not alone. 898 more words
1 week, 5 days ago