by Adélia Prado I don’t care about the word, that commonplace. What I want is the grand chaos that spins out syntax, the obscure birthplace of “of,” “otherwise,” “nevertheless,” and “how,” all those inscrutable crutches I walk on. Who understands language understands God, Whose Son is the Word. It kills you to understand. Words only […]
by Jane Kenyon I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years. . . . I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper. . . . When the young girl who starves sits down to a table she will sit beside me. . . . I am food on […]
by Charles Simic How to the invisible I hired myself to learn Whatever trade it might Consent to teach me. How the invisible Came out for a walk On a certain evening Casting the shadow of a man. How I followed behind Dragging my body Which is my tool box, Which is my music box, […]
by e.e. cummings anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did. Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but […]
by W. H. Auden As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: ‘Love has no ending. ‘I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you Till China and […]
by Tomaž Šalamun such an Eros? such a home? it tumbles, reckless, humus of earth the woods, brilliant steam of night the smoke, we name the smoke the surface of the sea who wallows in the vault? who supports the hunger of the sky? where will we put earrings, young lieutenants, weary sailors? as if the […]
This creed was published by the United Church of Canada. It was read at St. Lydia’s by Rachel Pollak on the night of her baptism, November 5, 2011, in lieu of a poem. A New Creed We are not alone, we live in God’s world. We believe in God: who has created and is creating, […]
by Richard Chess My groaning serves as my bread. My rising serves as my falling. I have floated all year. I have feasted and rested while the wind fluttered the sleeves of the thin and the moon lifted the faces of the pale who sounded their hollow O above my dream. Now my trembling serves […]
from The Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fire to ashes, […]
by Matthew Zapruder Sometimes I am happy to be here in this bright room drifting through music made by others looking down on the heads of the people passing teaching each other that life is forgoing I think everyone I can see is partially sad because we will never be fully forgiven this apartment building […]