Poem of the Day
Yellow Striped Pajamas
By Shamsher Bahadur Singh
walking silently on his paws, he emerges from the semidarkness and disappears into it.
Poetry: A-C
Winter Nights
By William Benton
kept in the linen closet—
cut perfectly to fit
A Natural Death
By Stephen Berg
No lily grows from coal, the obscene mole descends
And wends, bending ahead of pressure from his home,
Digging the window and the door, filing the floor
The Dead’s Locale
By Stephen Berg
It seems no air or any other thing
Pretends to help; and you, defeated now,
But visibilities, your balm and clue,
A Hard Rain in Hartford
By David Bergman
He’s come to the beginning of the end
Of the poem, the moment when he turns
To place the first of its words on paper.
Benny
By David Bergman
Ellen and I Go Back—at least as far
as her pre-op days when she was still a man
and minced each midnight through the local bar.
Greenhouse Blues
By David Bergman
rejoice, in fact,
over the quiet self-complacence of the toaster.
In the Country
By David Bergman
In the country, a dog is as free as a roach
The Artist is No Physician
By David Bergman
“The figure should be natural and relaxed,”
asserted Mucha to his drawing class,
The Guide of Tiresias
By David Bergman
Never was there a time when I did not lead him,
when I did not feel his hand upon my shoulder.
The Miniaturist
By David Bergman
“I couldn’t think of taking
anything that was whole.”