Poem of the day

Credit Due

by Jason Sam La-Rose

Jacob Sam-La Rose

Image Credit: 
Naomi Woddis
20 October

Flamingo Watching

by Kay Ryan

18 October

The Ugly Daughter

by Warsan Shire

Still from Dancing Words film
17 October

My true love hath my heart and I have his

by Sir Philip Sidney

16 October

The House on Jubilee Street

by Malika Booker

Malika Booker

Image Credit: 
Malika Booker
15 October

The Weather, For Example

by John Ashbery

Coasts are loud. Silences sin

at the meander of their doing.

All along the gatepost was wrong

as we suffered under that song,

 

wrong to shake the apron out

with crumbs the children marked

the way back with after it got dark.

Spoon the leaven in, there is more

 

to the hoods than flaps and strings.

A margin oozes.

It’s bakelite he said. I think it’s bakelite.

There’s so much more we know,

 

time that wraps us in a swarm,

mongrels in nettle tilth,

percentages of doubt that shift unease,

bright locks along the shore.

 

I was once happy abed,

I could see it coming like a beach

then very fast. We are here to tell

some account of ourselves,

 

grab favor from the circumcised gods,

be replaced in a box or pocket.

Nothing coming from that quarter,

it behooveth the moth to inch back

 

against the steep Atlantic tides.

I found us here with toy fish,

choice clusters of whatever

you desired in time past,

 

rushing in to fill the unthinkable well.