Poetry
The Quiet Life Happy the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herd with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks …
I. My name engraved herein Doth contribute my firmness to this glass, Which ever since that charm hath been As hard, as that which graved it was; Thine eye will give it price enough, to …
Jane Eyre “I’d like you to meet my books,” you said on our very first date, on the first of June, when you introduced me to all the books you’d read, who must have approved …
Jesus Is Condemned I tried to think for half an hour About the face of earthly powers That would condemn a god to die. I listened for its menacing cackles, The crack of whips, the …
A Midnight Dawn When tinkling glass Rang in my ear, I walked the hall Where Chanticleer Had crowed up dawn With crackling mirth, Red feathers flashing From his perch, While from the breach In the …
To Yüan Chēn (A.D. 810) The flower of the pear-tree gathers and turns to fruit; The swallows’ eggs have hatched into young birds. When the Seasons’ changes thus confront the mind What comfort can the …
A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops …
We tried the single sheet bend, The double sheet bend, The double eye knot, The sliding overhead knot, The round-turn fishhook tie, The figure eight knot, The half-blood knot, The jansik special, The homer rhode …
Steve Kowit, leader among the San Diego poets and editor of the weekly poetry column in the Reader since 2006, passed away in his sleep April 2. The following are among the tributes to Kowit …
I loathe you more than a full blown tantrum. More than eating crow with your tongue shoved down my throat. More than hip hop, more than this red thong shimmied up my ass. I’d rather …
It was a kiss on the go, I was leaving. Back to college for the semester. Your cheek rough with acne, the small blond hairs on your chin just sprouting. I didn’t know then how …
Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great, Had …
The stiletto boots in the back of my closet are restless, long to stroll the 3rd Street Promenade, looking for a red silk bustier. A Louis Vuitton bag. A lover who won’t let me down. …
I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen; A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel …