Poem of the Day
The Phase After History
By Jorie Graham
Then two juncoes trapped in the house this morning.
The house like a head with nothing inside.
The voice says: come in.
Then two juncoes trapped in the house this morning.
The house like a head with nothing inside.
The voice says: come in.
the revolution needs a bigger space / so that the same tragedy cannot repeat itself
it was great to be a little sick with fear but / it’s better to be alive with a driver’s license
as long as we’re together and here / we’re poetrying
sweetly going with death; away from / me; plastic bag extending into infinity
She helps her son detach the kneecap from the leg / and wash it in the stream.
News / has it that late in the month the sun had an outburst
play a little music on the rooftop / get a body good and wet
just go crazy, I say now to the flower
One dreams / with cats / when one / is outside oneself.
While I wrote, a butterfly, that critic, rode my wrist.