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Featured Poet: Nicola Vulpe
Elements
We no less than stars
suffer the whims of Einstein's laws
Observe how some end:
a jet of light, a stone hurled
through cold space to earth
Or linger on, and on,
half-lives halved,
and halved and halved again
Not Darkness, Not Light
Do not speak to me of darkness,
of darkness or roaring light
In darkness are no echoes,
in light no sounds at all
Speak to me rather
of the slate-black river
And the willow
stepping suddenly from the fog
Not Now
I stared the worms
down, down into their cold
I stared the worms,
stared them down to their beginnings,
stared them cold
I spoke the worms
spoke back their pale insinuations
"No, no," I said.
"Not yet," I said,
"Not now."
This is a clump of earth,
this a shovel; and this bright air
and sky
"Worms!" I said,
not now."
Hell, They Tell Us, Omar K
Hell, they tell us, Omar, is
for lovers and drunks.
There's a special circle for astrologers too, and faithless wives.
Take me there then with you — there and not the other place.
I'll not be dead with those who've never lived!
January, 6 pm
It had not been a good day,
a walk might help, my dad had said.
So we went out and I took his
hand,
and showed him how the air was full of diamonds,
and the snow, how it was piled along the street
so high I was afraid to climb the heaps alone.
We kicked some lumps and ran
a bit,
and in our boots as big as breadloaves
it seemed we made no noise.
There are days like this, he said.
Days like what? I wondered,
but didn't ask,
and trudged on beside, to the top of Putman Road.
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