Sunday Poem

The Sunday Poem : Erica Funkhouser

    "I think I don't really know who I am, or what I think, or what I believe unless I'm in the process of writing," says poet Erica Funkhouser. "That's where all of my discovery takes place, that's where all of my confrontation takes place -- I would say not [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:51:59+00:00 01.12.13|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Erica Funkhouser

The Sunday Poem : John Lane

  John Lane (Photo by Helen Correll)   John Lane is a poet with the eye of a naturalist. Quarries. Cottonmouths in a creek. Civil War battlefields. Suburban lawns. These are the places he turns to for meaning. Lane understands that our relationship to the environment is a symbiotic one [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:00+00:00 01.06.13|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : John Lane

The Sunday Poem : Janlori Goldman

  Janlori Goldman   It's hard to believe that the winter solstice is this week. For residents of the Northern Hemisphere, December 21st is both the longest night, and the shortest day, depending on your perspective. On December 21st, there will be 24 hours of daylight south of the Antarctic [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:05+00:00 12.15.12|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Janlori Goldman

The Sunday Poem : Anzhelina Polonskaya, Translated by Andrew Wachtel

  Anzhelina Polonskaya   I first met Russian poet Anzhelina Polonskaya several years ago at the MacDowell Colony, where many of the poems in her new collection, Paul Klee’s Boat, were written. While in New Hampshire, Anzhelina graciously offered to share her work at a local poetry event. She [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:12+00:00 11.17.12|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Anzhelina Polonskaya, Translated by Andrew Wachtel

The Sunday Poem : Martha Collins

  Poet Martha Collins (Photo by Doug Macomber)   As a five-year-old boy, Martha Collins' father sold fruit in front of the Blue Front Restaurant in Cairo, Illinois. One November day in 1909, he was lifted onto a relative's shoulders to watch a bloodthirsty mob of 10,000 people kill [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:17+00:00 11.04.12|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Martha Collins

The Sunday Poem : Hayden Carruth

          For Geof   I'm eighty-four now. Now I know what I Should have done. After the war I should Have stayed in the army. And now I'd be A retired sergeant or captain with a pension Much bigger than social security. Instead All those years of [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:38+00:00 08.19.12|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Hayden Carruth

The Sunday Poem : Ravi Shankar

          Sam the Super   You wouldn’t take my bald father for a quirky man, since his bearing is quintessentially Tamil-Brahmin, a Tam-Bram for the uninitiated, with the firmest hand when it comes to discipline or studies. He leers at ham and beer alike. Believes [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:52:57+00:00 06.16.12|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem : Ravi Shankar
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