Flint
The pipes are leaching lead. Heavy metal has bound itself to the body parts of children and will never let go — thousands of lives damaged by the same eternal problem that will be blandly avoided until it visits our neighborhood.
Poetry
Reliquary
Thought became presence, like a shell on the beach, like the flickering word of a gull under a cold thunder moon. I floated on the blue water, a reliquary of things from the past, dreaming of a moment of conception on a glittering moonlit bay. Picture courtesy of Ceri Dickison.
Caliban Alone
That thou punished me and made me hate thee is true. But I promised to be wise thereafter and seek thy grace. Why didst thou forsake me for my faults when I merely mimicked thy heckling tribe? I loved thee when thou strok’st me and taught me the charms of thy art. But now that
Water
The wind ripples across my back, and sunlight paints my depths with golden streaks. In this delicious moment of sound, light, and flow, I fear the clouds will soon close in and end my holy celebration on this remote autumn morning. In time, I’ll change my shape to fit the long quiet night. and dream
Until the Ceremony Is Over
The shades enter and leave each frame in unexpected ways. Being human means being part of the projection. I’m a visitor, here for a while but then off to somewhere else, wearing the body and everything that goes with it. The accessories make us think this is who we are, but they’re just borrowed trappings cloaking
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Kevin’s Favorite Poems, “Requiem,” Four More Gravestone Poems, “Gravy”
This is part of a series of columns that feature a much-loved poem, and other poems that speaks to, or resonate with, the first poem. This week’s poem is “Requiem,” written by Robert Louis Stevenson. This poem was carved into Stevenson’s gravestone. The line that attracted me was “Glad did I live and gladly die.” Some critics consider
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