Our “governors,” inside and out,

Cannot abide the conflict and contradiction

From which possibilities emerge.

 

In our need to substitute order for chaos,

We shut down what we need most.

And that includes each other.

 

April 12, 2017

By Adam Zagajewski

We were the barbarians.
You trembled before us in your palaces.
You awaited us with pounding hearts.
You commented on our languages:
they apparently consist of consonants alone,
of rustles, whispers, and dry leaves.
We were those who lived in the dark forests.
We were what Ovid feared in Tomi,
we were the worshippers of gods with names
you could not pronounce.
But we too knew loneliness
and fear, and began longing for poetry.

(For me this poem by a contemporary Polish poet speaks to the where and why of poetry)

(A favorite.  Simple, lucid and profound)

By Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors –

 

Of Chambers as the Cedars –

Impregnable of eye –

And for an everlasting Roof

The Gambrels of the Sky –

 

Of Visitors – the fairest –

For Occupation – This –

The spreading wide my narrow Hands

To gather Paradise –

 

Yesterday, at last, winter loosed its grip.

The river sparkled, flowing free.

Water everywhere — underfoot, along the road.

Mud.

 

The dogs embrace the dampness

With noses, paws, and rolling bodies.

A muddy, wonderful mess.

 

Fishermen appear along the banks

I work to get ready.

Knots, loops, lines and rings.

A year older, fingers fat and clumsy.

 

New York City —

Responsibility to clients, colleagues,

Co-creators of a Community.

Battenkill is here with me.

 

April 3, 2017