Poem of the Day
Study of Children
By Asha Futterman
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
Poetry: D-F
Photograph: Placing Keystone at Main Street Bridge, 1891
By Annmarie Drury
Dull skies descended to empty hilltops
and ordinary seabirds paddled towards
the opposite bank of a glimmerless river.
To a Poet Standing on His Balcony
By Annmarie Drury
You describe a crocodile in a lake, an anchor sunk
Walking in Hills of Which One Has Seen Many Paintings
By Annmarie Drury
shadows of cows in a pond once
became emblems of the heat
Beard
By John Drury
My mother wants to see me again. That means she’d like me
to shave off my beard.
Burning the Aspern Papers
By John Drury
Tonight I spent a good while in the garden,
thinking about—well, sitting amongst the flowers
I love to see, and, when it grew too dark,
Ghazal for Baron Corvo
By John Drury
Like Casanova, you made love to trouble, cruising
for gondoliers, the thrust of the oar, desire and pursuit.
Ghazal for My Father
By John Drury
What did we want, waiting all day for storm clouds to
reach us,
Ghazal of the Lagoon
By John Drury
Morning, on the quay, there’s a break in the light
rain here in the serene republic. I take in the light.
My Father Singing in the Basilica of San Marco
By John Drury
Where’s the blown-glass mirror to show each other
what we both fear, what we sing to disprove?
Summer Jobs
By John Drury
“So this is it, experience,” I thought,
lugging tin buckets from the ice machines
to rooms of real adults, with cigarettes