parting words

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    Parting Words Summer 2014 Paid Member

    Men ask the way to Cold MountainCold Mountain: there’s no through trail.In summer, ice doesn’t meltThe rising sun blurs in swirling fog.How did I make it?My heart’s not the same as yours.If your heart was like mineYou’d get it and be right here. More »
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    The Squirrel Sutra Paid Member

    Walking to the water troughI stopped to see a squirrel stop,a red squirrel drinking at the tap. Hearing me it climbed the firstthin branches of a pine, then lookedto see if I was any kind of threat. And as I stood, a blackcap settledon a branch, then hummingbird-likeseemed to stop midair while the Yellow King with his hordeof hungry ghosts, the White Kingsurrounded by celestial musicians, More »
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    Amagansett Cherry Paid Member

    Praise to the cherry on the lawn of the library,the heave and contorted thrust of it, a master,on its own root, negating the word weeping (miles to the nearest tears),requiring instead down-fountaining, or descending from a ferocious intention. Whatever twists the trunksubsumed into pink explosiveness, and then, all summer,the green-black canopy. Prefer it unbent? I have no use for you then,says the torque and fervor of the tree. Mark Doty is a poet and writer whose work has won numerous accolades and awards, most recently the National Book Award for Poetry in 2008. This poem is taken from his forthcoming collection Deep Lane, to be published by W. W. Norton. More »
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    Happy Lucky Idiot Paid Member

    If you have time to chatter Read books If you have time to read Walk into mountain, desert and ocean If you have time to walk Sing songs and dance If you have time to dance Sit quietly, you Happy Lucky Idiot   Nanao Sakaki (1923-2008) was a Japanese poet and the author of Bellyfulls. This poem is from How to Live on the Planet Earth © 2013. Reprinted with permission of Blackberry Books. Image: Jerry Takigawa, Untitled F-329, from the False Food Series, 2010.   More »
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    Swallows and Waves Paid Member

      Massive, the sea sweeps and swerves, furious as a dragon. Salt-hewn, foam-roughed, it troubles the thirteen swallows who cluster— identical, overlapping—trying to build one steady thing. Mist wets their breasts and makes flying heavy.  The sea has no shore.  All middle, dense as middle age. Birds may be welcome, then, as minor miracles, granting grace to that universal struggle. —inspired by “Swallows and Waves,” a painting by Okamoto Shuki, 1785–1832, Japan         More »