December 6, 2012
Bougainvillea A Poem by Matthew Dickman I like the inner lives of the silverware; the fork, the spoon, the knife. I appreciate how they each have a different reference toward god, how the fork is Muslim, the spoon, like a stone, is Buddhist, how the knife is Roman Catholic— always worried, always having a hard time forgiving people, the knife kneeling down in […]
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August 6, 2012
How This Wealth Came to Be A Poem by Robert Bly It’s hard to know how all this wealth came to be. Ishmael was not created from a fight with a whale. The ocean is not wild enough to have created Melville’s soul. The hungry one in us did not come from seed. Our old […]
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June 6, 2012
Growing Wings A Poem by Robert Bly It’s all right if Cezanne goes on painting the same picture. It’s all right if juice tastes bitter in our mouths. It’s all right if the old man drags one useless foot. The apple on the Tree of Paradise hangs there for months. We wait for years and […]
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December 6, 2011
Robert Bly Reads Kabir in 2011 Accompanied by Marcus Wise on tabla and David Whetstone on sitar. Friend, Hope for the Guest While You Are Alive Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive. Jump into experience while you are alive! Think… and think… while you are alive. What you call ‘salvation’ belongs to […]
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December 6, 2011
Call and Answer A poem by Robert Bly Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting? I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense Of being an adult […]
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December 6, 2011
What Was Said to the Rose A Poem by Jalaluddin Rumi, Translation by Coleman Barks What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest. What was told the Cypress that made it strong and straight, what was whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made sugarcane […]
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November 6, 2011
The Greek Ships A poem by Robert Bly When the water holes go, and the fish flop about In the mud, they can moisten each other faintly, But it’s best if they lose themselves in the river. You know how many Greek ships went down With their cargoes of wine. If we can’t get To […]
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December 9, 2010
Cleaning Up After The Poetry Salon A Poem by Doug Von Koss It’s not always easy. Proper nouns are manageable. They stack well. Biggest on the bottom The Great Plains, Idaho, Mt. Rainier – then the smaller stuff left behind – Boxcars, photographs, you know. Adjectives are remarkably tough to clean up. The dry ones […]
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