Small Town
by Philip Booth

You know.
The light on upstairs
before four every morning. The man
asleep every night before eight.
What programs they watch. Who
traded cars, what keeps the town
moving.
The town knows. You
know. You've known for years over
drugstore coffee. Who hurts, who
loves.
Why, today, in the house
two down from the church, people
you know cannot stop weeping.

new new new

There’s a funny role reversal happening here. We’re sitting in the coffee shop at Powell’s City of Books, and I’ve been writing furiously for the past hour. Chris, on the other hand, has been leafing through the stack of books that he pulled from the shelves. I’ve only picked up two, and don’t intend on making a purchase. He was just bemoaning how much money he’s likely to spend. This makes me laugh.

It’s 2010. Wow. Here’s to a better year than last!

Empty Hearts

Syntax

by Maureen N. McLane

and if 

I were to say

I love you and 

I do love you

and I say it

now and again

and again

would you say

parataxis

would you see

the world revolves

anew

its axis

you

poetry, poetry, poetry

I love poetry.  

That much is probably obvious if anyone ever takes the time to look through the archives of this little blog.  It's also obvious to all of my friends, as they all have had to sit down as I proclaim how much I love a poem before I read it to them. I just love the lilting language and powerful images and...well I could go on and on and on, but I won't.

One of my dear friends is getting married next summer and has asked me to not only read a poem at her wedding, but to choose it as well.  Yay! I love any chance to read lots and lots and lots of poetry.  

I did find a love poem that would be wonderful at a wedding, maybe not this wedding, but wonderful anyway.  Here, I'll share it with you!

Superbly Situated

by Robert Hershon

you politely ask me not to die and i promise not to

right from the beginning--a relationship based on 

good sense and thoughtfulness in little things

i would like to be loved for such simple attainments

as breathing regularly and not falling down too often

or because my eyes are brown or my father left-handed

and to be on the safe side i wouldn't mind if somehow

i became entangled in your perception of admirable objects

so you might say to yourself: i have recently noticed

how superbly situated the empire state building is 

how it looms up suddenly behind cemeteries and rivers

so far away you could touch it--therefore i love you

part of me fears that some moron is already plotting

to tear down the empire state building and replace it

with a block of staten island mother/daughter houses

just as a part of me fears that if you love me for my cleanliness

i will grow filthy if you admire my elegant clothes

i'll start wearing shirts with sailboats on them

but i have decided to become a public beach an opera house

a regularly scheduled flight--something that can't help being

in the right place at the right time--come take your seat

we'll raise the curtain fill the house start the engines

fly off into the sunrise, the spire of the empire state

the last sight on the horizon as the earth begins to curve

Magnolia

Back from the East Coast. Away I went again.  I'm steadily touring my way through the major cities in America, cheaply, staying with friends and seeing the sights.  I'm thoroughly enjoying it.  This last trip was a whirlwind visit to both Boston and New York City.  Erin in Boston. Tom in NYC. It was great to see them both.  Pictures can be found on my photos page, which I'm pretty sure is accessible via the sidebar.  Those pictures, right there, where you just looked.

Let's talk for a moment about cupcakes. I like cupcakes, I do. But I don't understand the

 craze.  And yet, unwittingly, I managed to eat a cupcake from the place that started the cupcake crazy. Magnolia Bakery in NYC.  As you can see from the picture right here, they're lovely. And they were tasty. But I still don't understand why everyone is so nutso about cupcakes.  I don't.

I must still be jetlagged because I have nothing else to say. Sorry.

This Longing
by Martin Steingesser

                ...awoke to rain
around 2:30 this morning
thinking of you, because I'd said
only a few days before, this

is what I wanted, to lie with you in the dark
listening to how rain sounds
in the tree beside my window,
on the sill, against the glass, damp

cool air on my face. I am loving
fresh smells, light flashes in the
black window, love how you are here
when you're not, knowing we will

lie close, nothing between us; and maybe
it will be still, as now, the longing
that carries us
into each other's arms

asleep, neither speaking
least it all too soon turn to morning, which
it does. Rain softens, low thunder, a car
sloshes past.